


Man On

by WatMcGregor



Category: EastEnders (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:29:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 37,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28460181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WatMcGregor/pseuds/WatMcGregor
Summary: Callum's just left the army. In an attempt to create a new life, he joins the local football team.I thought I'd lost this one, but I found an auto-recovered version, so enjoy!
Relationships: Callum "Halfway" Highway/Ben Mitchell
Comments: 8
Kudos: 28





	Man On

“Out wide. Out wide!”  
“Man on!”  
Callum watches the ball bobble towards him on the uneven ground, standing steady in the face of the two players bearing down on him. His breath is harsh in his ears. First touch in the match, even if it is only a training session, and he doesn’t want to mess up. He traps the ball and hurriedly flicks it out to the bloke on the wing, giving it just enough welly that the bloke can run on to it. Despite his slightly panicky clearance it lands exactly where he’d aimed.   
“Nice, Cal. Very nice!” On the touchline Jack, the coach, claps his hands.  
The direction of play changes, and Callum watches as the winger darts forward, neatly dodging the oncoming defender, and crossing the ball to the short stocky forward who brings it down, turns and easily passes another defender, feints a kick to bring the keeper off his line and then cheekily lobs him. He wheels round as the ball hits the back of the net and raises his arms in triumph, inviting praise of his skill. “Yes! Come ON!”   
From across the pitch, players on both sides clap. A couple of them indulge in some good-natured jeering.  
“Need to grow a few feet mate! Ain’t gonna stop anythin’ from down there amongst the daisies.”  
“He’s even smaller close up. Never known anyone look smaller the closer they get before!”  
“Yeah, whatever,” calls the goalie, hands on hips in defeat. “Like to see ya do that in a proper match, Mitchell.”  
On the line, Jack claps his hands again. “Well done lads. OK, gather round. Come on.”  
They jog across to sit or stand in a circle at his feet. The air is filled with the sound of panting and the smell of sweat and muscle rub. “Right, new season, new attitude, yeah?” Jack paces in front of them, arms folded. “We finished mid-table last year, but we can do even better this year. Jay, thanks for standin’ in for Mitch but he’ll be back for the next session. You can go back out on the wing. Cal, nice start, just what we need. A nice steadyin’ influence at the back. It’s what let us down last year, but I think you’re gonna help turn things around for us.”  
“Ha, no pressure then,” says the goal-scorer from where he’s sprawled on the grass. “Yer gonna save us all, Cal.”  
Callum grins across at him from where he’s standing at the back of the group as some of the others chuckle. The forward winks, and Callum warms to him.  
“First match is a week on Sunday, Walthamstow away, so I’ll be pickin’ the team based on who performs in next Wednesday’s training session. Most of that session will take the form of a practice match. If ya wanna be in the team, you gotta turn up.”  
“That all? Ain’t a very high standard then, is it?” asks Jay, the stand-in goalie.  
“Just as well, based on your performance,” says a tall dark-haired bloke standing at the back of the group with his arms folded.   
“Shut it, Fowler.” Jay sticks his middle finger up good-naturedly at ‘Fowler’, who grins obnoxiously back at him.  
“Lads, lads, focus!” says Jack. “What I want from ya this year is one hundred per cent commitment. Total focus. Maybe cut back on the beers and do a bit more exercise. Get fit - ”  
The squad jeer, the volume of their protests rising the longer he talks, and he ends having to shout to make himself heard. “Get fit and commit to finishin’ top five, alright?” He turns away, shaking his head. “Right, get lost an’ I’ll see ya next week. And god ‘elp us all.”  
“Jack takes his football serious,” says Jay as he walks with Callum across the park back to the changing rooms. “Thinks he’s a premiership manager.”  
“We not a premiership team, then?” asks Callum. “I’m very disappointed. Thought I was joining the creme de la crème.”  
Jay grins at him. “I like you. You can stay. ‘Specially if you help keep the goals out. We mighta finished mid-league last year but our goal difference was shockin’.”  
“What was shockin’?” asks the forward who’d scored the goal, catching up to them.  
“Our goal difference last year,” repeats Jay.   
“Well it weren’t for want of tryin’,” says the bloke. “Twenty seven I scored. Let down by the rest of ya, weren’t I?”  
“Let down by Scampie,” says Jay. “Thirty nine for, thirty two against. Bleedin’ hopeless defender, he was.”  
“Good riddance,” says the forward. “Hope yer a bit better, mate.” He holds out his hand, walking sideways so Callum can shake it. “Ben Mitchell.”  
“Callum Highway.”  
“Jay Brown,” says the other bloke. “And I don’t normally play in goal, just in case you was wonderin’. You comin’ the pub?”  
“Yeah, alright then.”  
“Get in some trainin’ like Jack said.” Jay winks at him.

“He always like that?” Callum as he watches Ben, the striker, knock back another pint and yell across the pub at Fowler, who Callum has learned in the interim is actually called Martin.  
“Who, Ben?” asks the bloke sitting next to Callum, a slight, dark-haired man who’s introduced himself as Kush. “What d’ya mean?”  
“Well…” says Callum, trying to think of the diplomatic way of putting it. “that lively?”  
“Over the top, ya mean?” Kush gazes across at Ben, who’s sitting at the bar on which, in front of him, there are already four empty pint glasses and a fifth which is only a quarter full. “Yeah, he has his moments.” Kush moves in closer and says conspiratorially, “Tell ya the truth, he’s a bit of a nutter, bit hot-headed. But, he scores the goals, so what can ya do?” He shrugs.  
Callum gazes around the bar at this little band of men he’s joined. None of them are exactly shrinking violets; but they all indulge Ben, only rolling their eyes or throwing each other wry smiles when his back’s turned. Seems like they all tolerate him for the sake of the goals. Watching their reactions, unnoticed by Ben, Callum almost feels sorry for the bloke.  
“He’s definitely on one tonight, though,” continues Kush. “Someone’ll be pourin’ him into a taxi later.”  
Looking around the group, Callum’s taken back to his time in the army. He hopes he’s not going to be under quite as much scrutiny in this little team though. In the army, he was never alone for a second of his day or night; there were always blokes around, you always had to be joining in, upholding the banter, watching your back. It got exhausting, especially if you felt like you didn’t quite fit in to begin with. Callum’s felt like he’s been playing a part for the last nine years, and he’s looking forward to being himself for a change. Whoever that might be.  
An hour later, he’s started to get to know most of the squad and he’s ready to call it a night. He’s got work in the morning, and it’s only been a week since he started at Coker and Sons, the undertaker in Albert Square, so he doesn’t want to start showing up late. He grabs his hold-all, announces his departure to the others and makes his way to the toilets for a quick whazz before he leaves.  
As he pushes open the door he realises he’s not the only one in there. Ben Mitchell, the forward, is leaning with his hands on one of the washbasins, head down staring at the taps. Callum gets the feeling he’s been there for a while. He raises his head and stares at Callum through the mirror above the washbasin, and Callum’s struck by the sheer misery in his eyes. When he realises it’s Callum who’s walked in on him, his eyes clear and he stands upright. “Well, if it ain’t the saviour of Walford Rovers!”  
“You alright, mate?” asks Callum.  
“Fine, fine. Just…” Ben turns on the tap. “Washin’ me hands.”  
“Right.” Callum crosses to the urinals and takes a leak, then washes his own hands. In all that time, Ben leans back against one of the washbasins with his arms folded.   
“Who d’ya play for before, then?” he asks.  
“No one,” says Callum. “Well, I was in the army, so we played amongst ourselves.”  
Ben snorts. “I’ll bet ya did.”  
Callum’s pulse picks up and he frowns at the other man.  
“Sorry! Sorry,” says Ben, raising his palms. “Ignore me. Just tryin’ to be funny. And failin’, evidently.”  
He sounds miserable again, in direct contrast to how he’d been earlier, the life and soul of the team. Callum looks at him. Really looks at him. He doesn’t seem as if he’s in a hurry to leave the safe haven of the toilets. His mouth is downturned and his brow furrowed. As he stares down at his shoes he looks like a man with the weight of the whole world on his shoulders.  
“You sure yer OK?” asks Callum, and at his words Ben comes to again with a start.  
“Yeah, yeah, just had a bit too much to drink. Makes me maudlin, don’t it?”  
“Where d’ya live?”  
A subtle smile flits across Ben’s face. “Not the most original pick-up line I’ve ever heard, mate.”  
Callum’s eyes widen. “I weren’t tryin’ - ”  
“I’m jokin’. Again. Chill out, Cal.” He shuffles his feet awkwardly. “I ain’t into that anyway. I’ve got a woman and a little girl, so…”  
“Right, yeah,” says Callum over the sound of the blood pumping in his ears. He wishes he could brush it off with mention of a girlfriend too, but he hasn’t had one of them in over nine years. “I was just gonna say, I’m headin’ off – if ya wanna share a taxi, like.”  
“Where ya headin’ for?”  
“Albert Square.”  
“Ben pushes himself off the washbasin. “Right up my street! I’ll go halves with ya on taxi fare.”  
They head off, Ben grabbing his hold-all from where he’d left it by the bar but not stopping to say goodnight to any of the others, and once outside Callum tries to work out exactly where they are. The training ground is further east than Walford, out towards West Ham, and the pub they’d stopped off in was close-by, a sixties-built concrete, flat-roofed building on the edge of a high-rise estate. “Which way to the main road?” he wonders aloud.  
“This way, mate.” Ben turns to start walking away from the estate and stumbles on the kerb.   
“Woah!” Callum grabs at him to stop him falling. “Steady.”  
“Ben rights himself with an arm around Callum’s waist. “Sorry. Bit too much to drink.”  
As they head up towards the main road, he doesn’t let go, until Callum prises his arm away from him, feeling weird. “You alright to walk by yerself?”  
“I shall have to do my best, won’t I?”  
It’s quiet on the main road, and they have to wait a while for a taxi, but once Callum’s flagged one down and they’re safely on their way back to Walford, the silence stretches between them.  
“So, uh…” begins Callum, feeling awkward. “You said you’ve got a little girl? How old?”  
“Seven in a couple o’ months,” says Ben. He holds up a finger. “Wait!” He struggles to free his wallet from his back pocket and then flips it open to reveal a photo of the little girl, a family shot with Ben and a blonde woman who looks hardly out of her teens.  
“Neither of ya look old enough to have a seven year-old,” comments Callum.  
“Ah well, started young,” says Ben, wriggling around to put his wallet back in his pocket. “Too young to know what we wanted, really. Or maybe we did know what we wanted. Maybe that was the problem.”  
He sounds a bit wistful, and he stares out of the window, his gaze sliding beyond Callum.   
“Married?” asks Callum.  
Ben waves his ring finger at him, turning back to meet his gaze. “Yup. Shotgun. Soon as we realised Lo was pregnant we tied the knot.   
“But yer so young!” says Callum again, still not able to comprehend that someone of Ben’s seeming youth could have so much responsibility in his life. It’s not something Callum’s had to experience. In the army there was absolutely no responsibility. You were told when to eat, when to sleep, what to think…  
“Not that young,” says Ben, sounding a little affronted. “Twenny-three. Old enough.” He shifts, seemingly uncomfortable with the spotlight being on him. “What about you? You married?”  
“Me? Nah. Bin in the army for nine years. Don’t exactly lend itself to havin’ a steady...” Callum searches for the right word, still not sure what would be right for him. “…significant other,” he finishes.  
“But yer so old,Cal!” exclaims Ben, the expression on his face letting Callum know that he’s teasing.  
Callum grins. “I spect I seem old to a whippersnapper like you, yeah. I’m only twenty-eight.”  
Ben sucks in air between his teeth. “Ancient. You sure defendin’s gonna be OK for ya? Should think yer joints is seizing up by now ain’t they, grandad?”

Back at Albert Square, he tumbles out of the cab and grapples with his wallet again. He peers into the billfold myopically before cursing. “Shit! I ain’t got no more money.”  
“’S’alright,” says Callum, biting back a sigh. “You can get the next one.” He really hopes Ben isn’t one of those people who can never quite put their hand on any money whenever it’s time to buy a round or pay for a cab. He hands over a tenner to the driver and waves him off. The cab sets off with a belch of exhaust fumes, and they’re left staring at each other, a space the width of a taxi cab between them. “Which way you headed?” asks Callum eventually.  
Ben points a thumb over his shoulder. “’Cross the Square. Which way you goin’?”  
“Just round the corner,” says Callum. “You gonna be alright gettin’ home?”  
“Course! It ain’t far.” Ben raises a hand in farewell and begins a meandering path across the Square. Callum watches him until he’s struggling to unlock the door of one of the houses on the far side, and then turns and makes his own way out onto Victoria Road.

Home. He chucks his hold-all in the corner and sinks onto his bed, looking round at the bedsit that’s been his home for all of three weeks.  
If he lies on the bed he can roll over and stretch to touch the walls on either side. In front of the bed is a couch that’s acting as a divider to what the landlord had euphemistically termed the ‘living area’, a space of no more than three steps before he’s off the carpet and onto the lino that demarcates the start of the kitchen area, half the size of the ‘living area’. In an alcove to the right is the door to the bathroom, which houses a shower and washbasin, both of which Callum can touch without stretching his arms if he’s sitting on the toilet.   
This bedsit is partly why he’d decided to join a football team. Three weeks in and he’s already feeling claustrophobic, hemmed in by his surroundings. He needs space to stretch and run and impose himself on the world. If it brings him a set of readymade friends, too, then so much the better. Nine years in the army and he’s lost whatever sense of self he ever had before he went in. He’s got a feeling it’s changed him, though. In fact, he knows it’s changed him. It’s asked questions of him he never would have contemplated beforehand. Before Afghanistan. Before…Chris…

TWO  
Having football to look forward to breaks the week up for Callum, makes him feel like he’s not quite so alone. He spends the days running up to the next training session dealing with grieving widows and distraught families. It should be depressing work, but it’s nothing that particularly bothers him. He’s not got a heart of stone, but he feels like he’s one step further back from death in the role he has now. Completing paperwork and guiding the bereaved through the plethora of choices that face them when it comes to choosing coffins, fittings, services and flowers, is nowhere near as traumatic as seeing death first-hand. When you’ve seen snipers take out soldiers only a hundred feet away from you; when a friend’s been killed by a landmine… a good friend… a friend you maybe thought -. When you’ve seen all that, the details of heart attacks and cancers almost take on a reassuring domesticity. It’s not as if he attends the funerals anyway – Mr Coker deals with that side of the business – so he’s just required to be the sympathetic salesman. He finds he’s good at it, and Mr Coker seems pleased with him.  
If it weren’t for the football, he might find it all a bit much though. Every night he goes back to his cramped little bedsit on his own and ends up watching telly, usually from the bed because if he sits on the couch, he’s too close to the screen.  
He finds he spends a lot of time just thinking, too. Now that he’s out of the army and his every waking second isn’t planned for him, he’s got a lot of time to process the last few years. He wasn’t kidding when he told Ben that being in the army didn’t lend itself to having a significant other. He thinks it’s prevented him from even forming a personality, too, and he wonders every day at the preferences he begins to discover within himself. Now he’s got choices, he finds he hates ketchup but likes brown sauce; likes dance music but hates the middle of the road crap his army mates used to listen to. He feels like he’s putting together a personality at last, and revels in discovering things about himself every single day. He can feel his character unfurling, taking up more space in the world. He spends a lot of time thinking about Chris, and thoughts of Ben even creep in every now and then, too. He’s a little bit intrigued by the bloke, he doesn’t mind admitting to himself. He knows there’s more going on there than first meets the eye.  
He gets to the training ground early the following week, and keeps a look out for him while he jogs out to the pitch and does a few stretches.   
“Ready to take Walford Rovers by storm?” asks Jack, approaching him laden down with corner flags and kit bag and balls.  
“Try me best boss,” says Callum, doing star jumps.  
Jack hefts the bags down on the touchline with a grunt and places his hands on his hips, stretching out his back. “Listen, I noticed last week, Ben Mitchell seemed to take a shine to ya.”  
“Well I wouldn’t say - ”  
“Not surprised, from the rumours floatin’ around about him.” Jack winks. “Nah, I’m jokin’. He did seem to have a glint in his eye when he talked to ya though, seemed like ya might be able to develop a bit of influence with him.”  
Callum frowns. “What d’ya mean?”  
“Like I said last week, ya seem like a nice steadyin’ influence. Maybe you can bring a bit of that to bear on Ben, too.” Jack starts taking brightly-coloured bibs out of the kit bag. “He’s a bit…impulsive on the field sometimes, gives away fouls when he don’t need to. See if ya can’t calm him down a bit, yeah?”  
“Not sure I’ve got any influence,” says Callum, doubting Jack’s appraisal of himself. “I’ll see what I can do though.”  
“Good lad.” Jack pats him on the back and heads off to start putting out the corner flags.  
“What did ya mean?” Callum calls to his retreating back. “What rumours are floatin’ around?”  
Jack turns to face him, walking backwards. “Nothin’. Forget I said it. ‘S just the lads messin’ around. Just banter.” He mimes zipping his lips shut and turns back around, striding out to the furthest corner.  
Banter.   
Callum knows how that goes. In the army there was loads of comment and innuendo, all designed to keep the troops on the straight and narrow. If you ever called anyone out on it, it was just ‘banter’. You were just being touchy. You got a reputation for being prissy and over-sensitive. Seems like wherever you get groups of blokes banding together, the same thing happens. Everybody conspiring to keep you in your box. Of all the blokes he’s met in this team so far, Ben is the one who most intrigues Callum; the one who seems like he’d be worth getting to know on a deeper level, and he’s not unaware of the similarities with how he’d felt about Chris in the beginning.  
Part of leaving the army is about deciding for himself once and for all who he is. Along with the preferences he’s discovering about the food he likes, and the music he enjoys, he needs to work out if Chris was a one-off, or if he really does prefer blokes. Did he gravitate towards him just because there were no women available, or was it something more? The way his interest’s been piqued by Ben makes him wonder if the choice has already been made, somewhere in the deep recesses of his brain, but he wants to know for sure. If he’s honest with himself, there were plenty of women available at the various places they’d been stationed, all throwing themselves at the troops, but he’d always found reasons not to go with them. Reasons he’d couched in moral terms, but when it boiled down to it, he wonders if they were really just excuses.  
He’s never had a boyfriend, is the thing, and he wants to find out if that’s what he needs. He’s going to have to get a grip though. He can feel the beginning of something linked to Ben, and even he, with all his lack of experience, knows that lusting after a bloke with a wife and a kid isn’t the way to satisfy this urge that’s growing in him.  
He’s interested to see Ben again though, to try and work out what the rumours are about him and why they might be doing the rounds. He’s disappointed though. The other lads arrive in dribs and drabs and they’re split into two teams, shirts and bibs. By the time they’re all changed and out on the field, Ben hasn’t arrived.   
Jack glances at his watch, then turns to look over at the changing rooms. “Right, lads, we need to make a start, we’re gonna lose light if we’re not quick. Gather round.”  
They cluster at his feet again in a re-run of last week. “OK,” he says, clapping his hands. “Last session before our first game, so I wanna give you a good run out, but I don’t wantcha goin’ mad, alright? I don’t want no injuries before we even start the season. ‘Specially if our striker ain’t even gonna bother to turn up.”  
There are groans and whispered comments among the squad.   
“Surprise,” mutters Jay.  
“Anyone heard from him?” asks Jack.  
“Nah.” Everyone shakes their heads.  
“Boss, we can’t keep makin’ allowances for him,” says Martin. “I mean, I know he scores the goals but he takes the piss half the time.”  
“I know, I know!” says Jack, raising his palms. “I’m on it.” He darts a glance at Callum, who starts to wonder what he’s let himself in for. He’s pretty sure he has zero influence over Ben Mitchell, despite what Jack might think.  
“But he’s gonna turn up for the match on Sunday, ain’t he?” asks Kush. “An’ you’ll slot im straight in the team, yeah?”  
Jack shrugs. “He’s a good player. Our best goal scorer. What can I do?”  
There’s more muttering and head-shaking around the group.  
“Fine him for not turnin’ up to trainin’ for a start,” suggests Jay.  
“I will. Course I will – and by the way, fines have gone up to twenty-five quid this season, alright?” Jack shoves his hands in the pockets of his tracksuit bottoms. “Listen, forget about him for now. I wantcha to play yer socks off out here tonight, just don’t kill each other. Right, thirty minutes each way, but before we start get yerselves warmed up. Jay.”  
Jack steps aside for Jay, who leads them in a series of exercises and stretches before they’re split into teams. It’s a good twenty minutes before Callum stops glancing over the changing rooms every few minutes to see if Ben’s suddenly going to appear, yelling out an apology for being late and jogging onto the field up-front. He’s so distracted he goes late into a tackle and comes off worst, his shin throbbing from where it had connected with the studs of one of the younger kids, Keegan.  
“Shit, man! I’m sorry,” pants Keegan as the ball goes out and play stops while it’s retrieved.   
“’S OK,” winces Callum. “My fault. Wasn’t concentratin’. Ow!”  
He’s going to have a nice bruise there. He rubs hard at it, trying to reduce the sting.   
“Alright there, Cal?” calls Jack from the touchline.  
He raises a hand. “I’ll live.”  
“Right, all of ya. Remember what I said, this is a practice match. I don’t wantcha kickin’ the shit out of each other.”  
“Sorry boss,” calls Keegan.  
Callum claps a hand on his shoulder. “Weren’t his fault, Jack,” and then jogs back to position for the goal kick. From that point on, he concentrates, all thoughts of Ben Mitchell shoved to the back of his mind.

When work finishes the next evening, he’s loathe to go straight back to his little bedsit. He feels like he needs to stretch his muscles a bit, so he goes out for a walk, thinking to explore the streets a bit further afield. He’s just passing the car lot on the Square when he notices Ben leaning up against the side of the portacabin with that preoccupied look on his face again.  
“Alright?” he calls as he passes.  
Ben glances up and his eyes clear. “Well, if it ain’t soldier boy. Watcha doin’ here?”  
Callum stops and points behind himself. “Just finished work. I started at the funeral parlour a few weeks back.” He wanders back towards Ben. “You lookin’ to buy a car?”  
Ben shakes his head. “This is my gaff. Well, me dad’s, anyway. I manage it.”   
“Ah, so if I want a cheap motor I’ll know where to come then.”  
Ben grins and looks him up and down. “If ya play yer cards right.” He realises what he’s doing, and the grin fades. His eyes snap back up to Callum’s face. “Where ya goin’?”  
“Just out for a wander. Didn’t wanna go home just yet.”  
“Snap.”  
“Nah? Listen, I’ve got some beers back at mine. You wanna come and while away an hour?”  
Ben takes his hands out of his pockets and stands up straighter. “Mate, that is the best offer I’ve had all day. Lead the way.”  
“So, where was you last night?” asks Callum as they retrace his steps and head out onto Victoria Road.  
“Huh? Oh, trainin’?” Ben lets out a deep breath of air. “Had a bit of bother to sort out. With me dad.”  
Callum glances sideways at him. The younger man’s face is studiedly blank. “He alright now?”  
“Yeah.” Ben scoffs. “He never weren’t alright. He just makes the rest of us suffer sometimes, know what I mean?”  
Callum is awkward, feeling like he’s stumbled on a private family thing. He knows all about fathers making life difficult. From the corner of his eye, he sees Ben glance back at him. “Don’t matter,” the younger man says eventually.

When Callum lets them into his bedsit, Ben hesitates on the threshold. His eyes dart uncertainly to the bed and back to Callum again. “Blimey. Your bedsit is mainly…bed, mate, ain’t it?”  
“Now you see why I wanted to go out and get some air,” says Callum, throwing his keys down onto the bed and taking the three steps across to the fridge for the beers. He takes the caps off a couple of bottles and indicates the couch with his chin. “Make yerself comfy.”  
Ben does as he’s told and perches on the edge, reaching out a hand to take the bottle Callum offers to him. “I ain’t sure if you ain’t lured me here under false pretences, seein’ that bed.”  
Lust flares momentarily in Callum’s gut. He ignores it. “Don’t worry,” he says, throwing himself down on the couch a safe distance from Ben. “I ain’t gonna try anythin’.”  
“Shame,” says Ben. Immediately, he colours. “Sorry, don’t mind me. I make these stupid jokes that sound better in me head. Didn’t mean to make ya uncomfortable.”  
“You didn’t,” says Callum, trying to allay the man’s embarrassment. He wonders if that’s why Jack had alluded to the rumours around Ben. Maybe Ben’s brought them on himself with his ‘stupid jokes’. The silence that ensues quickly threatens to turn awkward, so he tries to think of something – anything - to fill it while he sips from his beer. “So why didn’tcha wanna go home tonight then?” he asks eventually. “Somethin’ to do with yer dad?”  
“Me dad?” Ben frowns. “Nah, he don’t live with me. I live with me mum. Me ‘n’ Lola and Lexi – me little girl.” He sits back on the couch, stretching his legs out in front of him. “Me mum’s hardly there. She runs the caff on Bridge Street. Even so, I just sometimes feel like there ain’t enough space, ya know?”  
Callum waves a hand to indicate their surroundings and they grin at each other. “So, mystery man,” says Ben, throwing his head back onto the back of the couch and regarding Callum through narrowed eyes. “How’ve you ended up in Walford? Family?”  
“Sort of,” says Callum. “In the sense that I’m tryin’ to keep out their way.” He mirrors Ben’s pose. “I reckon I’m just far enough away out here that I won’t bump into them.”  
“Ah,” says Ben. “Like that for you an’ all, is it?”  
“Yeah, me dad and me don’t really get along,” says Callum. “Not for want of tryin’ on my part, but I think I just ain’t good enough for him. ‘S why I went in the army. Partly to prove meself, partly to get away from him.”  
“Oh my god!” exclaims Ben. “We could be twins separated at birth, mate. Well, apart from the ‘goin’ in the army’ thing.” He takes a sip of his beer. “Nah,” he carries on when he’s swallowed. “I reckon my gettin’ married was the equivalent of your goin’ in the army. Course gettin’ a girl pregnant, that weren’t really in the plan. I weren’t tryin’ to prove anythin’ with that. Or not to Phil Mitchell, anyway. But…” he waves his bottle around to emphasise his point, “when it happened, it didn’t exactly hurt. Earnt me a few brownie points for a little while, at least. And now I’ve got Lexi, who’s the apple of me eye.”  
They lapse into silence. Ben is looking at him closely, and Callum doesn’t feel that he can break their gaze. He’s mesmerised by the blue of Ben’s pupils and the length of his lashes. As he watches, he sees nameless emotions play over Ben’s face. Eventually his eyes clear to a naked sadness.  
She’s havin’ an affair, ya know.”  
Callum huffs out a surprised laugh. “What?”  
“Lola, me missus. She’s havin’ an affair. I dunno who the bloke is, but it’s bin goin’ on for quite a while.”  
“Ain’t you confronted her about it?”   
“Nah. Don’t wanna rock the boat. “  
“Rock the boat?” Callum is incredulous. “But she’s jeopardisin’ yer marriage!”  
“Nah, she ain’t. I turn a blind eye, I get to keep Lexi, don’t I?” Ben sighs. “An’ to be honest, it kinda suits me.” He gives a wry smile. “We ain’t exactly love’s young dream, Cal. I obviously can’t give her what she wants, so she’s gettin’ it somewhere else. I don’t mind.”  
“You don’t mind?” Callum echoes, with disbelief in his voice. He sits up and stares back at Ben. He sees his eyes harden.  
“What? You think I should lay down the law with her?” He shakes his head. “Ain’t my style, mate. I know she’s gettin’ what she needs somewhere else, and if I don’t even know who the bloke is, it means she’s bein’ discrete, don’t it? So I can’t complain.”  
“I ain’t sure I could put up with that,” says Callum, crossing to the fridge for another couple of beers.  
“Well of course, yer a macho army man, ain’t ya?” scoffs Ben. “Gotta have yer women fallin’ into line, haven’t ya?”  
“Not exactly,” snaps Callum, annoyed at the assumptions Ben’s making about him.  
“My little Lexi,” says Ben, carrying on his train of thought after a few seconds as if their little spat hadn’t happened. “She’s the one good thing that’s happened to me, so I ain’t gonna do anythin’ to jeopardise that.”  
Callum reflects that it might only be a matter of time before that decision’s taken out of Ben’s hands. He stays silent, however. It’s not his place. He cracks open the two new bottles and hands one across to Ben.  
“I,uh… I ain’t never told no one that before,” says Ben. “None of the footie lads know, so just keep it to yerself, yeah?”  
“Yeah, course. None of my business, mate.” Despite his words, Callum wants to know more. Specifically, why Ben thinks he can’t give his wife what she needs. He stays quiet, though, and steers the conversation onto the football team, coaxing Ben to give him morsels of gossip about the other lads and how the team’s fared in the last few seasons.  
He’s an entertaining companion, and as the evening rolls on they lapse into comfortable silences every now and again. Callum can’t help but feel that he might have met a kindred spirit. Ben’s got more of an edge to him than Chris ever had. He’s quicker to judge and less forgiving of people’s foibles, but Callum likes him. He gets the feeling Ben might like him too. He also gets the feeling Ben might not like very many people.  
As it’s approaching ten, Ben starts talking about making a move.   
“You are gonna turn up for the match on Sunday, ain’t ya?” asks Callum as they both stand up.  
“Course. You lot ain’t gonna win it without me, are ya?” asks Ben. “I’m yer star player.”  
Callum grins at him. “Modest, with it an’ all.”  
Ben’s answering grin fades slowly. “You won’t tell anyone what I said, about me missus, will ya?”  
“No, I already said I wouldn’t,” Callum assures him. Ben is looking pensive again, his eyes sad.  
“I dunno why I told ya, really. Ain’t never shared it with anyone before.” He throws Callum a faint smile. “Seems like it’s true what they say – a problem shared is a problem halved.”  
He looks so small and sorry for himself that Callum can’t help it. He draws him into a hug. He feels Ben tense for a second or two, before he relaxes into it, shoving his face into Callum’s neck and squeezing his arms tight around his waist. “Any time you wanna talk, you come and find me, you hear?”  
“Yeah, cheers,” says Ben from somewhere near his jaw. He pulls back, looking misty-eyed, and schools his features back into the customary arrangement that Callum’s already learning is his ‘Ben against the world’ expression. “I’ll see ya Sunday, Cal. Thanks for the beers.”

It takes Callum a long time to get to sleep that night. He goes over and over their conversation in his head, remembering what Ben had said and remembering, too, the reactions he’d generated in Jack and the rest of the team in only the short time Callum’s known them all. He’s not stupid. He knows what this growing obsession means for him, after experiencing it once already with Chris. Seems like the choice has already been made in the recesses of his brain. For the first time though, regarding Ben, he wonders if it’s not quite the lost cause he might have imagined.  
He falls asleep to the memory of Ben's body tight against his own, his face in the crook of his neck.

THREE  
The following Sunday, Callum wakes up in his big bed in his tiny bedsit with a huge sense of anticipation. He’s not sure if it’s about the upcoming match or the prospect of seeing Ben again. Maybe a bit of both. He’d whiled away the second half of Friday, his last day at work that week, alone in the office reliving the moment he’d hugged the younger man, telling himself even as he did so that he was ridiculous to place so much significance in the feel of Ben’s body against his own for just those few fleeting moments. It might even mean he’s a bit of a pervert, if Ben’s actually straight. Nevertheless as the afternoon had dragged on after the last of Coker’s clients took their leave, abandoning him to endless paperwork, he’d daydreamed about what might have been, giving himself free rein to indulge in fantasies of what could have happened if he’d followed his instincts and Ben had responded.  
He’s so wrapped up in his thoughts that he forgets that sometimes reality takes a while to catch up or – other times - veers off in a different direction completely.  
He arrives late at the ground for the first match of the season against Walthamstow, having veered off in a wrong direction of his own after getting off the bus and then having to double back on himself once he’d realised he’d taken the wrong road. When he gets to Walthamstow’s ground the team have all arrived before him and are in varying states of undress, their voices echoing from the open changing room, sounding keyed up, full of anticipation and excitement.  
“Here he is!” shouts Jack as Callum steps into the changing room. “Thought our star signing had bottled it.”  
“Nah, sorry, got lost,” says Callum.  
There are jeers from around the room.   
“Got lost? Better not get lost this afternoon!”  
“ ‘S’alright Cal, we’ll make sure yer facin’ the right way.”  
“Haha, yeah. Don’t wantcha aimin’ at the wrong goal!”  
He takes their ribbing in good part, ducking his head and finding a space to change in between Mitch and Keegan. His eyes seek out Ben, who’s down at the far end of the room. Callum’s heart lurches a little when he spots him. He’s the only one not joining in with the banter. He glances at Callum, expressionless, and then turns back to lacing up his boots. Callum’s smile of greeting freezes on his face. He concentrates on getting himself changed, wondering if maybe Ben’s nervous. Maybe he doesn’t mess around before a match, preferring to get himself focused.  
“OK, lads,” shouts Jack above the cacophony of their chatter. “Quick team talk. Simmer down.” He crosses to the middle of the room and paces between the benches, lowering his voice as the background noise fades out. “Now, they’re a pretty handy team, finished fourth last season, so it’s gonna be a tough one to start with. They’re dirty, with it. Any chance they get, they’ll be clobberin’ ya, so don’t rise to it, OK? They hit ya, you fall over, even if you ain’t on the ball, OK? They foul, you drop to the ground, til the ref sees what’s what. An’ if ya get the chance, you clobber ‘em back, show ‘em yer not gonna stand for it. ONLY if the officials ain’t lookin’, mind. I don’t want the lot of ya banned in yer first match of the season.”  
He turns to Callum. “Their striker’s a bit tasty, so Cal, you’re gonna need to close him down any chance ya get. Don’t let him get any free shots.”  
Callum’s still only just changing into his kit. He nods as he pulls his shirt over his head, the adrenalin building.   
“Ben, their defenders are built like brick shithouses, but they ain’t that quick, so you should be able to dart in between ‘em. Just keep a cool head, alright?” Ben nods, his eyes on his boots. Callum stares hard at him, willing him to look up at him. Nothing.  
“That goes for all of ya,” continues Jack. “Keep yer wits about ya. Right, out ya go.” He finishes his talk with a few sharp claps of his hands, and the team jump up, roaring with anticipation. The changing room empties quickly, leaving Callum to lace up his boots. As he turns to pack his clothes away in his hold-all, he realises Ben hasn’t yet left with the others. He marches over to Callum and holds out a hand.  
“This is what I owe ya.”  
He shoves a five pound note at Callum. “For the taxi fare. So now we’re quits.” Callum takes it and then Ben heads for the exit without another word, his face blank. Callum stares after him in bemusement, not sure what just happened. He slides the fiver into his jacket pocket, wondering what it is that he’s done wrong.  
He clatters out of the changing room and jogs to catch up with Ben, who’s bringing up the rear of the group, walking slowly towards the pitch. As Callum draws level, he says, “You OK? You in a mood with me about somethin’?”  
At the sound of his voice, Ben starts jogging and shouts to Martin. “Oi! Fowler, give us a touch of the ball.”   
Martin does as he’s asked, kicking the ball back for Ben to run onto it. The two of them pass it between themselves, jogging until they reach the touchline.   
Callum stops dead. So it’s not about pre-match nerves. Ben’s got a problem with him. He freezes, suddenly wondering if Ben had sensed what Callum was beginning to feel about him. Maybe Callum had read it all wrong. Ben’s straight, and he’s uncomfortable with Callum’s attentions – not that he thinks he’s been obvious, but he realises he’s going to have to dial it back even further. He takes a deep breath and jogs slowly to the pitch, trying to adopt a philosophical view. He hasn’t given himself away as far as he can tell. He can salvage this. He’ll have to put all nonsense about what he’d hoped might happen with Ben out of his mind.   
He focuses on carrying out a few stretches while they wait for the other team to get to the pitch. They’re big lads, all of them. He’ll be OK, but he worries for the smaller, slighter players on his team, like Kush and Keegan and -. And anyone who’s smaller than Walthamstow’s lads. He remembers what Jack had said about them being rough and braces himself for a few bruises. He’s got butterflies. He’s not played competitively for years. He takes a few deep breaths and does some star jumps to ease the tension in his muscles.  
The players take their positions. The referee shakes the hands of the team captains and carries out the coin toss. He checks with the linesmen, and then the whistle goes and Callum’s immediately into defending the goal. There are two attackers who constantly threaten to get the better of him, so he concentrates on cutting off their angles, crossing over with Martin when they give them the run-around. The park echoes with the sounds of the spectators yelling advice and encouragement, everyone on the touchline suddenly a top-flight manager in their own mind. By half-time Walford’re only a goal down, but Callum feels like he’s run a marathon. He heads back to the changing rooms with the others, blowing hard. Everyone’s looking red-faced, sweaty and a little bit shellshocked.  
“Fuckin’ ‘ell they’re quick!” says Kush.   
“D’ya see that bastard midfielder?” asks Jay. “The blonde one? He’s playin’ me ribs like a xylophone. Any time the ref’s got his back turned he’s elbowin’ me.”  
“Just twat him, mate,” says Ben. “Show him who’s boss, that’ll soon sort him out.”  
“OK keep yer focus, lads,” says Jack. “Yer doin’ OK holdin’ ‘em. Cal, Martin, great teamwork at the back there. We’re doin’ well to have kept ‘em to the single goal. Ben, their defender on the right’s slower than slow, you noticed? Tap the ball past him and you can run on before he’s even turned round. You just gotta keep up the pressure on ‘im, OK? Everybody, keep feedin’ the ball to Ben on the right.”  
Ben nods. Callum watches him again to see if he looks up and makes eye contact but Ben is pretending he doesn’t exist, or maybe he’s just not interested in being mates. Callum curses himself for feeling like a little schoolkid who’s sore because he’s being ignored in the schoolyard. He glances around himself, checking no one’s noticed his preoccupation with the younger man.  
They head out for the second half, and it feels like the momentum might be swinging their way. They get most of the possession for the first half an hour, at least. Ben does as he’s told, tapping the ball on whenever he gets it and out-manoeuvring the slow defender almost every time. Eventually his persistence pays off; he dinks the ball into the penalty area, the smallest of gaps opens up between the two defenders and the midfielder who’s pulled back to help out, and he slides the ball under the keeper and into the bottom right-hand corner of the net.  
Like he’d done in Callum’s first practice session, he turns with his arms raised, drinking in the applause of the Walford supporters with a wide grin on his face.  
Calls from his team-mates echo around the ground. “Nice one mate!” “Well done son.” “Right, let’s pick up the pace!” (This last one Jack, accompanied by his customary hand-clapping.)  
Ben grins at the players around him in turn while the keeper’s still picking the ball out of the net, and his gaze alights on Callum. Callum sees his expression freeze momentarily until the grin disappears abruptly and he turns his back.  
The last quarter of an hour, they’re under sustained attack. Walthamstow are trying hard to get back into it, and Callum’s work is cut out. He executes a sliding tackle and brings down the smaller of the two forwards just outside the penalty area on the left-hand side. The ref blows for a free kick.   
“What?” screams Martin. “That weren’t never a foul! He played the ball, ref.”  
“Shut it, you,” says the ref, waving him away.  
Callum pulls Martin back by his sleeve. “C’mon, Martin, leave it. The ref’s blind.”  
“Oi! You can watch it an’ all, or you’ll be goin’ in me little black book,” says the ref.  
They pull back, Martin still cursing under his breath, and try to close off the angle of the free kick. Callum’s heart is in his mouth. It’d be just his luck to give away a free kick, let them through to score and give the game away. Stupidly, he feels like he’d be letting Ben down, after he’d scored earlier.  
The kick is taken, the ball wheeling in towards him, there’s a scramble on the goal-line and then it’s away, cleared with a mis-kick from Martin that’s more brute force than skill. Callum breathes again.  
The remaining few minutes are taken up with time-wasting from Walthamstow, the ball going out more than it’s kept in, and a final throw-in from Keegan just as the whistle blows.   
“Well done lads!” Jack passes amongst them, clapping and patting them on their backs as they shake hands with the other team and then make their way back to the changing room. “One-all draw, couldn’t have asked for better against this team. Well done!”  
They hit the showers, exchanging banter and jokes. In all his time in the army, Callum’s perfected his communal shower technique: get in quick, get out quick, don’t look around. He’s already dried off and half-dressed by the time Ben’s approaching the showers. He resolutely looks away as Ben pulls his towel from his waist and steps under the stream of hot water.  
Dressed again, they all cross the car park to the clubhouse, ready to celebrate the start to their season. They’re full of spirit, glad to have got the first game under their belt, and exchange war stories of fights with defenders, fouls and feints. Ben’s the life and soul of the team again, like last time, although he stays well away from Callum. Nevertheless mid-evening, Callum turns from a conversation with Mitch and Tubbs and realises he hasn’t heard his raucous laugh for a while. He looks around the clubhouse until he spies him.   
Ben’s sitting at one end of the bar nursing a pint, all alone, staring into the distance with a wistful look on his face. Callum follows the line of his gaze and sees that he’s starting intently at one of the other team’s midfielders. He looks like the weight of the world is back on his shoulders, and the doubts about him surface again in Callum’s mind.  
He crosses to stand beside him under the guise of returning his empty pint glass.   
“Great goal today,” he says tentatively.  
Ben comes to with a start at the sound of his voice. He ducks his head and stares down into his pint. “Thanks.”  
“Ben…” begins Callum. “Have I done somethin’ to offend ya?”  
“Nah. Course not.” Ben gulps down the rest of his pint and slides down off his bar stool. “Listen, I gotta go. See ya at trainin’ Cal.” He claps him on the arm and strides away towards the exit of the clubhouse. Callum watches him go wondering what the hell is going on for him. 

He's preoccupied at work again the next day, trying to work out what the deal is with Ben. He’s frustrated at himself for giving it so much headspace, but he knows why it is. Of course he does. When he’d come out of the army he’d decided he was going to work out what he wanted, but he doesn’t think he could do that just by walking into a club or a bar and trying to pull. He needs to get to know someone before he can even begin to think about sex, and there’s always the (admittedly, vanishingly slim) possibility he isn’t actually gay. He’d hate to discover that just as he was going down on someone! No, he’d thought maybe Ben could be the one to help him work himself out, but it seems he needs to work out the younger man first, and that’s something he just can’t do. He hadn’t just intended to use him, though, that wasn’t his style either. No, he’s genuinely attracted to the bloke. He just needs to work out if it’s an infatuation borne of the fact that he, Callum, is lonely, or if there’s something more to it.  
It seems like Ben isn’t going to give him the opportunity, though. What was it he’d said, when he handed over the money to Callum? So now we’re quits. Funny thing to say, as if he felt like he’d owed a colossal debt to Callum. A fiver wasn’t exactly going to break the bank. The way he’d said it had seemed to lend a bit more meaning to the statement, though what, Callum just can’t figure out.  
Over the coming weeks he puts it to the back of his mind, and it only surfaces for a few minutes every Wednesday or Sunday evening after he’s seen Ben at football. The younger man is civil to him, but takes care never to be left alone with him, and never starts a conversation. Try as he might, Callum cannot think of anything he might have done to offend him, so he decides sadly that he just needs to let it go.   
His energies are taken up with new preoccupations, anyway, foremost among them avoiding the young grand-daughter of Mr Coker. Tiff is eighteen, pretty, and full of attitude and romance. It seems that she’s singled Callum out to be the focus of that romance, and he begins to dread hearing her voice in the reception area as the frequency of her visits increases once she’s discovered him.  
“I just can’t understand it,” Mr Coker comments. “She’s never been interested in the funeral business before.” He musses Tiff’s hair as she sits on the desk opposite Callum’s. “Perhaps we’ll make a funeral director of you yet, young lady.”  
“P’raps,” says Tiff, with an exaggerated smile. As Mr Coker turns to the filing cabinet, she rolls her eyes at Callum. He smiles back uneasily.   
“So,” she begins as Mr Coker bumbles away into the inner office. “You used to be a soldier?”  
“Yep,” says Callum.  
“You still got yer uniform?”  
He laughs nervously. “Nah.”  
She shifts position on the desk, crossing her legs and regarding him through narrowed eyes. “You don’t say much, do ya?”  
“Um…”  
“You shy? Or just not very good with women?” She nods her head. “I’ll bet that’s it, ain’t it? All them years in the army, you probably never really had time for women, did ya?”  
Callum waves a hand over his paperwork. “Tiff, I gotta get on…”  
“What ya workin’ on?” She crosses to stand at his side, and he shifts his chair away a bit, wondering if it would be bad form to report the boss’s grand-daughter to him for sexual harassment.  
“If I don’t finish this now, I’ll need to stay late, and I’ve gotta get off on time tonight.”  
“Oh yeah? Hot date?”  
“Footie practice.”  
She steps in a bit closer. He shifts his chair a little further to the right. “You play? Who for?”  
“Walford Rovers.”  
“Ah…OK”  
He doesn’t ask what her thoughtful exclamation means, he’s too busy feeling relieved that she steps away from him. “Right, well,” she says. “I’d better let ya get on then.”

It’s early November, unseasonally cold. The nights have drawn in so that they practice now on the floodlit hard pitch the other side of the Walford Rovers clubhouse, and the lads arrive bundled up in scarves and gloves and lots of layers, their breath fogging in front of them.  
Ben is still not doing anything to make him feel they might be friends. He’s keeping him at arms-length, polite but distant. They’re paired for some of the exercises that evening and he goes through the drill, concentrating hard and saying little.  
They’re halfway through a twenty-minute practice match when Callum realises he’s got an audience. A very small, select audience.   
Tiff.   
She’s standing at the edge of the pitch watching intently through the chain-link fencing that surrounds it, her hands shoved in the pockets of a bomber jacket and wearing the tightest pair of jeans Callum thinks he’s ever seen.  
“Oi oi!” shouts Tubbs. “Someone’s got a little fan club. Alright darlin’?”  
“Shut up!” calls Tiff. “I ain’t here for you.”  
“Nah? Who are ya here for then?” asks Tubbs. He follows the line of her gaze and guffaws. “Cal, yer stalker’s here.”  
Callum smiles across awkwardly, feeling a blush spread over his face. He makes a point of ignoring her for the rest of the game, although he knows his movements are jerky and self-conscious.  
As Jack blows the whistle to signal the end of the game and the end of the practice session, he jogs over to her. “What ya doin’ here, Tiff?”  
She smiles sweetly. “Came to see you in yer shorts, didn’t I?”  
A couple of the lads make teasing remarks as they pass them on the way back to the changing room. Callum ignores them.  
“Tiff, please don’t - ”  
“Who’s that shortarse was givin’ me evils all night?”  
“What?”  
“Him.” She points out Ben as he jogs over to the changing room.   
“Ben?” asks Callum, surprised. “He gives everyone evils, I don’t ‘spect he was singlin’ you out. Listen, I’m goin’ for a drink with the lads.”  
Her face lights up. “Yeah, OK, don’t mind if I do.”  
He shakes his head, more in exasperation than anything. “Nah, Tiff. I’m goin’ WITH THE LADS. Can you get home safe on yer own?”  
Her face falls. “Yeah, s’pose.”  
“Right, OK. Well, I’ll see ya then.” He turns away, but then takes his courage in his hands and faces her again. “You shouldn’ta come here, Tiff. It was… it was a bit outta order.”  
Her face creases in disbelief. “You what? Oh well, don’t worry, I won’t hassle you again. I don’t expect you’d know what to do with a woman anyway, wouldya?”  
He bites back a retort that he doubts she’s old enough to know what to do with a man either, and jogs off after the others before she has another go at him.

Their little spat has him annoyed for the rest of the evening, not least because he’s suddenly become the butt of everyone’s jokes. He stays for what he thinks will be a quick pint, but loses his patience when he sees Ben doing his normal drama queen routine, sitting at a table in the corner on his own staring down into his pint.   
He crosses to sit in front of him and stares at him expectantly. Ben meets his gaze, looking resigned.  
“Tell me what I’ve done,” says Callum.  
Ben sighs. “You ain’t done anythin’, Cal.”  
“Then what’s goin’ on for ya? Why’re you pretendin’ we never spent that evenin’ together?”  
“Spent that evenin’ together?” Ben scoffs. “Have ya heard yerself Callum?” He takes a sip of his pint while Callum shifts awkwardly, wondering if he’d given too much of himself away with his question.   
“I didn’t mean - ”  
“She’s a bit young for ya, ain’t she? Yer girlfriend?” Ben places his glass down on the table, slowly and precisely.  
“She ain’t me girlfriend.” It’s Callum’s turn to sigh now. “She’s just some kid with a crush.”  
“Oh well, lucky you.”  
They sit in silence while Callum reflects that at least Ben hasn’t got up and walked away, like he normally does. The rest of the clubhouse is beginning to empty out now, the lads taking their leave in dribs and drabs as they mention having to get up early for work the next day.  
“I never told anyone what you said to me,” says Callum eventually. “I wouldn’t. So if ya thought I had, if that’s why you’ve bin off with me, you’ve got it wrong.”  
“I never thought ya had,” says Ben.   
“Then what? What is yer problem with me?”  
“Why d’ya care, Callum? Why don’tcha go and latch on to someone else, one of the other lads?”  
“I’m mates with the other lads. I just thought me and you was mates too. I felt like - ”  
Callum was about to say that he felt like he and Ben had made a deeper connection, but he knows how that would sound. He bites off the words, and suddenly, he gets it.  
“Was you embarrassed?” he asks.   
“Embarrassed?” echoes Ben.  
“Yeah, you told me that stuff about yer marriage, and then wished you hadn’t? Is that it?”  
“Don’t be stupid,” says Ben, but Callum can see from the way his eyes slide past him, and the faint blush that appears on his cheeks that he’s hit the nail on the head.  
“I’m right, ain’t I? THAT’s what’s bin goin’ on for ya. Is that why you said we was quits when ya gave me back that money? You was tryin’ to pretend none of it happened?”  
“Don’t be stupid,” says Ben again, but there’s no fire in his words. He avoids eye contact and busies himself with downing the rest of his pint. Callum’s suddenly afraid he’s going to get up and leave, like he normally does. He reaches out and puts a hand on Ben’s arm.  
“Don’t go!”  
Ben looks like he’s about to protest. He stares down at Callum’s hand and then shrugs it off and sits back in his seat. “I don’t know what ya want from me, Cal.”  
“I want us to be mates. I don’t care about any of that stuff ya told me. It don’t make me think any less of ya.”  
“Nah? Perfect Cal with the perfect life? You don’t think any less of me with me fucked-up marriage and me psycho dad?” Ben sits forward. “Don’t patronise me, Callum.”  
“I ain’t.” Callum’s voice is shrill with how much he wants Ben to believe him. “I ain’t patronisin’ ya, and I ain’t got a perfect life. Far from it. I’m twenty-eight, I live on me own in a bedsit I can’t swing a cat in, and I spend most of me wakin’ life wonderin’ if I prefer blokes, so – you know. Hardly perfect.”  
He realises what he’s said in the heat of the moment only because he sees the expression change on Ben’s face.   
He catches his breath in the silence that follows. “There,” he says. “You’ve got your secrets, I’ve got mine. So NOW we’re quits!”

FOUR  
“So, do ya?” asks Ben, his eyes narrowed and his pint glass hovering, forgotten, halfway between the table and his mouth.  
“Callum battles with a sudden feeling of nausea. “Do I what?”   
“You know - ”. Ben sits forward, glancing around them and lowering his voice. “Prefer blokes.”  
The million-dollar question. Callum knows the answer, of course he does, but he’s never said it out loud before. He takes a deep breath, watching Ben closely for signs of – what? Revulsion? Recognition of a kindred spirit? “Yeah,” he whispers. He clears his throat and speaks a little louder. “Think so. I mean, I ain’t done very much about it. I always had girlfriends before I went in the army, but - ”  
“But the sight of all them men in uniform turned ya?” Ben is watching him closely too. Callum thinks a bomb could drop on the clubhouse right at that moment and they probably wouldn’t notice.  
“No!” he says, feeling weirded out. “Nothin’ like that. I just… I met someone. We wasn’t together, not like – you know. But we did... Only the once, mind, but I dunno, it just felt different with him. Like it was a natural progression. I’d never felt that with any of me girlfriends.”  
Ben frowns. “But ya didn’t pursue it? Why not?”  
“He died.” Callum takes a long sip of his beer, holding the liquid a while in his mouth before swallowing. “Landmine.”  
Ben is still watching him closely. “Shit! Sorry.”  
Callum shrugs. It’s one of those things you have to live with. He’d cried all his tears over it at the time. In secret, when the lights were out. He takes another sip of his beer, draining the glass. Ben’s not laughing at him. He’s not run screaming from the building. Maybe he’s OK with it. Maybe he feels something similar.  
“So what about you?” he asks.  
Immediately Ben sits back in his seat and folds his arms, a shuttered look coming over his face. “What about me?”  
Callum opens his mouth to form a question, still not sure what it’s going to be until he hears his voice uttering the words. “You OK with it?” He feels, as he says it, like a moment’s passed, an opportunity’s been missed.  
“With you? Course. Whatever floats yer boat, Cal. Whatcha gonna do about - ” Ben waves his hands around, “- you know. Findin’ someone?”  
Callum blows out a stream of air. “I dunno. I ain’t very good at that kind of thing. Pullin’ in bars. Not my style.” He grins at Ben. “Reckon I’ll have to wait til someone drops in me lap.”  
“You might wait a long time,” says Ben. Immediately, he sits forward with an apologetic look on his face. “I didn’t mean - !”  
“’S OK, I know what ya meant,” says Callum “It ain’t a very effective way of gettin’ what I want, is it? I need to put meself out there. I just don’t think I’m ready yet though.”  
“Not confident enough?”  
“I don’t know what I’m doin’, do I?”  
“Well ya just need to find someone who’ll teach ya then, don’tcha? I’m sure they’ll be queuin’ up around the block for ya.”  
Callum dips his head. “Yeah?”  
“Yeah, course.” Ben grins at him, but his grin fades as soon as it appears. He opens his mouth to say more, but then the bloke behind the bar calls across to them. “Sorry gents, we’re gonna close up soon. Ain’t got a late licence for Sundays.”  
They look around themselves, surprised to find that the entire place is empty apart from the two of them.  
“Yeah, course, sorry,” says Callum, standing up and pulling on his coat. “You catchin’ the bus back?” he asks Ben.  
“Uh, no. Need a bit of air before I go home,” he says as he bundles himself into his coat and scarf with a frown on his face.   
They head for the exit, their hold-alls banging against their thighs as they make their way between the tables. Outside, it’s cold, and their breath hangs in the air. “Gonna be a frost I reckon,” says Callum.  
“Yeah.” Ben is shivering already, and looking anywhere but at Callum.   
Callum gets the sudden urge to reach across and adjust his scarf for him. He shoves his hands in his pockets instead, and takes a step away. “Right, well, I’d better go for me bus. Don’t catch yer death of cold out here, ya hear?”  
Ben’s face strains into a half-smile as he busies himself with untwisting the strap to his hold-all and settling it more comfortably on his shoulder. “Nah, I won’t.”  
“See you at trainin’.”  
Callum takes a step backwards, and then another one. Then he turns on his heel and makes his way down the road to the bus stop with a spring in his step. He feels somehow liberated, having told another living human being about his sexuality.   
He only has to wait a couple of minutes for the bus to arrive, and he smiles wryly when he notices it’s closely followed by another one. It’s always the way in this neck of the woods.   
There are plenty of seats downstairs, so he chooses one near the back and stares out of the window. The bus sets off just as he sees Ben come running down the road to catch the one behind him. Callum turns to watch him as his own bus pulls away, puzzled. Maybe he decided it was too cold to go for a walk. Maybe.  
He rests his head against the window and thinks back to his time in the army with Chris. Talking to Ben about it’s brought it all back again. They’d bonded almost immediately when Callum had been posted to Helmand in his seventh year. Chris had already been there five months and they’d gravitated towards each other almost without even realising, at first. They shared a similar sense of humour, a bit different to the raucous, loud style of most of the others, and often they would spend an evening chatting quietly while the others rough-housed. They got a fair bit of ribbing for it. The others named them ‘the professors’, which amused Callum no end, and it amused Chris to see Callum amused.  
It was when they had a bit of leave that things changed. They’d got leave to travel across the border to Quetta for a couple of nights, and had roomed together in a half-empty, run-down hotel out of season, spending their days visiting the bazaars and travelling out to Hanna Lake. Everything had felt special to Callum, and he’d only realised afterwards that what had made it special was the presence of Chris to see and experience it all with him.   
On their last evening, they’d had an early dinner and then retreated to their room, thinking to pack and then head out for a last stroll around the city. As they’d shoved the last of their belongings into their backpacks and wrestled with the zips, Chris had become wistful.   
“Gonna miss this,” he’d said, perching on Callum’s bed.  
“Yeah,” Callum had said.   
Chris had smiled at him, that special, warm smile that had been reserved only for him, and suddenly Callum had realised that this hadn’t just been mates on a trip together. It had been much more than that. It must have shown in his eyes, because Chris’s expression had changed.  
“C’mere,” he’d said, patting the bed beside him.   
Callum had done as he was told. He always had, where Chris was concerned.   
They’d stared at each other, the room around them fading out, and Callum had seen an anxious look come into Chris’s eyes. “Don’t hit me, OK?” he’d said, before raising a cautious hand and stroking Callum’s cheek. Then he’d lent in and softly brushed Callum’s lips with his own, and life had suddenly made sense to Callum.  
Neither of them really knew what they were doing, and in fact, their one and only night together could have been described almost as chaste. It was significant not for what they did, but for what it meant. For how it dissected Callum’s life so absolutely. Before and after. Asleep and awake. Unaware and knowing.

Callum sighs as the bus takes a left turn, wondering if he’s just experienced another of those ‘fork in the road’ moments with Ben. He wishes they could have stayed talking longer. It had felt so good to finally be able to discuss his fears and feelings with someone who wasn’t judging him. At least, he didn’t think Ben had been judging him. Thinking back, he realises he’d been hoping that their conversation would give Ben the opportunity to be just as open as he, Callum, had been. He hadn’t, though, so Callum can only conclude that he’d got entirely the wrong end of the stick about him.  
He wonders if there is anyone in the team who’s gay. He runs through them all in his mind. None of them seem like they might be. More importantly, none of them are as attractive as Ben. No, maybe attractive’s the wrong word. Intriguing. Capable of preoccupying Callum’s thoughts for large portions of his waking day, and some of his dreams in the night too. He’s infatuated. God! No wonder Ben had been weird around him. Callum only hopes he hadn’t been too obvious. He’s going to have to be careful around the younger man, keep a tighter rein on his feelings. He wouldn’t mind talking to him again though. It’s liberating to have someone know the real Callum.  
Once again, he’s disappointed though. Ben’s a no-show at the next training session, and also at the next match. They’re thrashed, five-nil, and the entire squad is grumpy and downhearted. Ben’s name is mud in the clubhouse afterwards. No one stays very long after the match, and Callum finds himself back in his bedsit by six-thirty that evening. He resigns himself to a long evening watching telly.   
No one seemed to know why Ben hadn’t made the match. Jack had done a quick bit of improvisation, putting Jay up front and bringing in Billy on the wing, but Jay was no Ben, and Billy was no Jay. As a team, they’d been sluggish and slow, and the other side had rung rings around them. In goal, Mitch had become more and more foulmouthed as the shots whistled past him until the ref had warned him about his mouth and threatened to book him if he heard him again.  
Ben’s still a no-show for the next training session, but the following Sunday is a home match, and Callum’s almost relieved to see him climbing the steps to the changing room just ahead of him.  
“Thought you’d transferred somewhere else,” he says, poking him in the side.  
Ben side-steps away from his touch. “Just bin busy.”  
“Well, I’m glad yer back,” says Callum. “We all are,” he adds, remembering his decision not to freak Ben out. “We was bleedin’ awful without you up front last week.”  
“Yeah, I heard ya got a hammerin’,” says Ben. He doesn’t offer an explanation for his absence, and he doesn’t say very much more to Callum before the match. He’s not exactly avoiding him, but neither is he seeking him out. Callum wonders if, now he’s had time to think, he’s decided Callum isn’t the sort of person he wants to get friendly with.  
They’re playing Walthamstow again, the home leg, and the team seems even bigger than Callum remembers when he gets out on the pitch and sees them warming up.  
They’re just as dirty as he remembers. For the first twenty minutes, all Callum can hear is Jack protesting some foul or another from the touchline. Shouts of “Ref!” resound around the park. Jay goes down after a nasty tackle out on the wing, and Max, the trainer, comes on to tend to him. He’s down a good couple of minutes. Shortly after, Keegan gets an elbow to the face that has him rolling around on the ground until the ref tells him to stop making a meal of it. When he gets up, though, it takes him a good ten minutes to get back in the game. A few minutes later, Mitch passes a short ball out to Callum and he moves it downfield, keeping an eye on the approaching attacker as he goes. There’s a space in central midfield and he could slot the ball through straight onto Ben’s foot. He picks up his pace and prepares to tap it through. And then the attacker comes in with a brutal sliding tackle that misses the ball completely and has Callum doubled up in pain, curled on the ground and clutching at his ankle. There’s uproar around the ground again. He can hear Jack yelling. A couple of the lads are crowded round the ref telling him the player needs to be sent off, and suddenly, from out of nowhere, Ben is in front of Callum and his hands connect with the player’s chest, almost pushing him over backwards.   
“What the fuck d’ya think yer doin’?” screams Ben. “You coulda broke his leg!”  
Kush and Martin grab Ben from behind and grapple to hold him back, while the other player advances on him. The ref races across to get in between them, but Ben’s still screaming at the player. He turns his anger on the ref. “Are you not even watchin’ what this lot are doin’? They’re dirty bastards, and yer lettin’ em get away with it.” He’s still struggling to get at the other player, and Kush and Martin are having their work cut out holding him back.  
By this point Max has come on and is examining Callum’s ankle, checking he hasn’t broken it. “You’ll live,” he says, getting out a can of Deep Heat and spraying it on the affected area. Callum lies back, gritting his teeth against the pain.   
The ref blows his whistle repeatedly until Ben calms down, and then sets about restoring order. “You, stand over there,” he orders, pointing at Ben. “And you, over there,” pointing at the other player. “Do not move and do not speak to each other.” Martin stands in front of Ben, just to make sure he doesn’t go off on one again, and the ref bends to check that Callum’s OK to resume play, but Callum can’t even get on his feet yet. Jack runs over and crouches down in front of him.   
“You gonna need to come off?”  
Callum’s still taking deep breaths to try and deal with the pain. “Think so,” he grits out.   
Jack nods. “OK.” He turns and beckons to Billy, standing on the touchline. “Bill, get yourself on. Substitute, ref.”  
“Right.” The referee turns away to the player who’d fouled Callum. He holds up a yellow card.   
“Yellow?” screams Ben. “He should be sent off for that. Fuckin’ animal!” He surges forward again but Martin holds him back with his palms on his chest.  
The referee turns to Ben. He holds up a red card. Ben throws his hands up in despair, and there are jeers from the lads, accompanied by shouting from around the ground.  
“Ben, calm down. Give us a hand here, yeah?” says Jack, and at the second time of asking, Ben comes across and helps Jack to get Callum back on his feet again. He leans heavily on their shoulders and tries to take a step.   
“’S not broke,” he says. He’s relieved, but the pain is still intense.   
“Get off the field, number seven,” says the ref, pointing towards the changing rooms. As Ben opens his mouth to give him more back-chat, Jack turns to him, stumbling under Callum’s weight. “Give us a chance, ref. We’ve gotta get our player off after that goon hacked him down.”  
They start to make slow progress towards the touchline. “I’ll be makin’ a formal complaint about your refereein’,” shouts Jack over his shoulder.  
“What refereein’?” asks Ben. “Bleedin’ useless!” He’s still seething, and Callum can feel how tense his body is.  
“ ‘S OK, I’m OK,” he says, not sure if he’s trying to reassure Ben or himself. “It ain’t broke.”  
“Not for want of tryin’,” mutters Ben.  
“You alright to get him back to the changin’ rooms?” Jack asks Ben.  
“Yeah.”  
“Good lad. Cal, I’ll come an’ check on ya at half-time. Just get yerself changed and see if ya can’t get some ice for it from the clubhouse, alright?”  
“Yeah,” huffs Callum, and he and Ben make their way slowly back to the changing rooms like they’re doing some kind of inebriated three-legged race.  
Once there, Ben deposits him onto a bench and heads for the door, muttering something about going for some ice. He’s back five minutes later with a plastic bag-full. He crosses to his hold-all and takes out his towel, wraps the bag in it, and then comes across to where Callum’s sitting and kneels in front of him. Callum stares at him, trying to work out what had caused his outburst on the pitch, but all the while, he avoids eye contact. He starts to unlace Callum’s boot but pulls back when Callum flinches.   
“Here, I’ll do it,” says Callum.   
“You should put it up on the bench,” says Ben when Callum’s taken off his boot and peeled off his sock, agonisingly slowly.  
Callum does as he’s told, and presses the ice pack around his ankle. There’s already a dark, black bruise forming. He throws his head back and takes in a deep breath.  
Ben is still kneeling at his feet.   
“What happened there?” asks Callum.  
Ben ignores him and gets up to sit beside him on the bench.  
“You lost it, big time,” says Callum, not wanting to let it go. “What was that all about?”  
“He coulda broke yer leg,” says Ben, fiddling with the hem of his shirt, his head bent as he watches his movements intently.  
“But you was really angry,” says Callum. “I ain’t never seen you like that before.”   
“Sorry.” Ben raises his head to look at Callum. His eyes are anguished. “I didn’t wanna see ya get hurt.” He shrugs. “That’s all.”  
His honesty takes Callum aback. He stares at the younger man, trying to work out what’s going on for him, and then he sees Ben’s eyes flick down to his lips. Ben immediately darts a glance back up to his eyes, but a second later, his gaze is again on Callum’s mouth. He starts to lean in, very slowly, and Callum tries to still his suddenly racing heart.  
There are footsteps outside the door and loud conversation as the rest of the team return for half-time, complaining loudly about the standard of the refereeing and the further fouls they’d had to endure. Ben leaps up and crosses to where he’s left his hold-all, scratching the back of his head and then turning to join in the discussion, his features schooled into a blank. Callum lets out a breath he didn’t realise he’d been holding and curses the universe. His stomach is suddenly full of butterflies.  
The players sit round and sip from bottles of water, and the air is filled with panting and the smell of sweat.  
“Right,” says Jack. “We’re up against it today, lads. We ain’t just playin’ the team, we’re playin’ the ref an’ all, so keep yer cool.” He darts a glance at Ben as he says it. “I don’t wanna see any more displays like that, Ben. We gotta be the better men, you hear me?”  
Ben opens his mouth to argue, but Jay pipes up first. “I’m feelin’ quite hurt, Mitchell. I got meself injured an’ all but ya didn’t come to my defence.”  
Opposite Callum, Keegan sniggers. “Me neither.” He’s already sporting a vivid bruise on his cheek from where he’d been elbowed. The others guffaw, and a few comments are thrown. “Proper little knight in shining armour, wasn’t ya Ben?”  
Ben looks around the room like a cornered animal. “Fuck off Jay,” he says, but there’s no bite to it. He sounds exhausted. He stands up and heads for the showers, the others watching him with amused expressions.   
“Ben,” calls Callum. “Take me towel.” He roots around in his hold-all and throws his towel across to Ben, who catches it and turns on his heel without a word.  
Jack resumes his pep-talk and the lads quieten down to listen to him. Only Jay is not paying him much attention. Callum sees him stare in the direction Ben had taken, and then his gaze swivels round to Callum. He’s frowning slightly. He looks like he’s trying to work something out.

FIVE  
Ben comes out of the shower while Jack’s finishing off his pep-talk, and Callum averts his gaze, his breathing shallow, as Ben lets his towel drop to the floor and starts getting dressed. He doesn’t dare look at Jay, either, though he’s sure he’s still staring over at him. The back of his neck prickles, and he concentrates on adjusting the ice pack on his ankle, making a show of inspecting it to see how bad the bruising is.  
“Right, let’s get back out there,” says Jack. “We’re a goal up and they can’t stand it, so they’re gonna get dirtier still. Don’t rise to it, alright? Just play yer best game and we’ll have the beatin’ of ‘em. We win this match we’ll go fifth, and we ain’t even got to Christmas yet. Yer all doin’ way better than I hoped this season. Just keep it up, ya hear me?”  
There are choruses of “yes boss!” from around the changing room, and then a clattering of studs on the tiled floor as they all head back out.   
“Good luck lads,” says Callum, raising a hand as they file past him.   
“You OK?” asks Jack, coming to stand in front of him.  
“Yeah, ‘s just bruisin’. I’m gonna have a limp for a few days, I reckon.”  
“Alright, well, get changed, keep yerself warm, and come and watch the second half if you can make it over there.”   
Jack winks at him and throws a quick look at Ben, who’s got his back turned. He opens his mouth to speak but evidently thinks better of it, leaving without a word for his star striker.  
The changing room is suddenly quiet again. Ben busies himself getting dressed, his back still turned to Callum. Watching him, Callum can see that his shoulders are tense.  
“Ben,” he says in a quiet voice.  
“I’ll get this washed for ya,” says Ben, waving the towel in Callum’s direction. “Let ya have it back next week.” He turns to sit and put his shoes on, and the look in his eyes is abject.  
“I don’t care about the towel,” says Callum softly. “Tell me what’s goin’ on for ya.”  
“Dunno what ya mean,” says Ben.  
Callum sighs. So they’re back to playing cat and mouse again. Just when he thinks they’re reaching an understanding Ben backs off, gets scared, avoids him. “You do,” he insists.  
He waits for a reply, but Ben finishes putting on his shoes and turns to start bundling his belongings into his hold-all.  
“Club-house is probably open,” says Callum, trying a different tack. “You wanna go and get a drink?”  
“With you?”  
Callum huffs a laugh. “Yeah, course with me.”  
“No.”  
Callum considers a joke about making a bloke feel special, but decides against it. Ben doesn’t look like he’s in the mood for humour. He’s small and tense, and if things were different, Callum would want nothing more than to put his arms around him. “Just talk to me, then. Tell me what happened back there.”  
Ben battles with the zip on his hold-all, which is bursting at the seams. “I already told ya. I didn’t wanna see ya get hurt.”  
“Not then. Later,” says Callum gently. “You was gonna kiss me.”  
The zip jams, and Ben throws his bag on the floor in frustration. “Fuck’s sake!”  
“C’mere.” Callum rises with difficulty and hobbles over to the bag, then kneels and fiddles with the zip, trying to free it from where it’s caught on the fabric of the bag. His ankle throbs in protest at the new angle. Ben sits on the bench with his head in his hands, still not answering Callum.  
“You were, weren’t ya?” asks Callum, insistent, gazing up at him.  
Ben drops his hands from his face and returns his gaze. “Dunno what yer talkin’ about.” His eyes are hard and his gaze slides past Callum. He stands up and grabs his bag away from him. “Wishful thinkin’, mate.”  
Callum’s heart sinks even further. “Please don’t do this,” he begs. “Don’t pretend nothin’ happened.”  
Ben makes his way to the door and fumbles with his bag that’s still gaping open wide. He turns on the threshold. “I ain’t what ya need, Callum. Go and find someone who can give you what ya want.”

Jack pats him on the back when Callum joins him on the touchline for the rest of the second half, gritting his teeth against the pain in his ankle as he’d changed and made the trek back out to the pitch. “Still one up. Ben gone?”  
“Yeah.”  
Jack turns back to keep his eyes on play. “Any idea what was goin’ on with him today?”  
Callum sighs. “Not a clue. You know him better than me.”  
“Yeah, but I ain’t never seen him blow up like that before.” Jack takes a couple of strides down the touchline. “Ref! ‘Nother foul. You watchin’?” He throws his hands up in a theatrical display of frustration, and then strides back towards Callum. “He’s hot-headed, yeah, and he can be a scrappy little bugger at the best of times, but that was another level.”  
“I uh, I think there might be some stuff goin’ on for him,” says Callum, feeling awkward. “At home, maybe.”  
“I should think there was!” exclaims Jack. “He’s sailin’ close to the wind, though. Missin’ matches, trainin’ and now this. Well done, son!” He stops to clap a perfect ball from Keegan and then shoves his hands back in his tracksuit bottoms. “I turn a blind eye cos he gets us the goals, but the others are getting’ pissed off, and I can’t say I blame ‘em, to be honest.”  
Callum suppresses a shiver and pulls his jacket closer around himself. He gets the feeling Jack’s expecting him to pass the message on to Ben, and he’s resentful that Jack’s trying to use him in that way. “I ain’t got any influence with him, Jack. I don’t even think he likes me all that much, so you know - ”  
“Course he likes ya. He treats ya like crap, don’t he?”  
“Well I wouldn’t say - ”  
“Most of us don’t even get that from him. He treats ya like crap, it means you’ve registered on his radar, and that probably means he thinks yer alright, deep down.” Jack winks at him. “Never said he weren’t complicated.” He wanders along the touchline again. “Nope, that boy’s an enigma to us all,” he calls back.  
The remainder of the match plays out under a flat grey sky, and Callum’s mood matches it perfectly. He knows that Ben has feelings for him, but he can’t work out why he’s pushing him away. It doesn’t even seem as if he wants to. He takes a step towards Callum and the next thing, he’s taking ten steps back in spite of himself. It’s like dealing with a wild animal, wary of being trapped. He knows Ben had intended to kiss him, and he wonders what would have played out if the team hadn’t returned at precisely that minute. It feels like he very nearly had what he wanted, only to have it snatched away from him again. One thing’s for sure though, in that split second as Ben leaned in towards him, he knows he’d wanted nothing in the world as much as he’d wanted the feel of his lips on his.  
He sighs, and wanders up the touchline, trying to ease his ankle. He’s freezing, and the afternoon’s turned miserable in every respect, so he limps back to Jack.  
“Think I’m gonna go, Jack.”  
Jack glances back at him briefly, but quickly goes back to following the play. “Yeah? You not stayin’ for a pint with the lads?”  
“Nah, think I’ve had - ”  
Callum’s words are drowned out by a sudden roar as Jay’s fouled in the penalty area.   
“Yes!” yells Jack. “Definite penalty! Come on ref, you musta seen that!”  
Everyone around the ground holds their collective breath as the ref jogs towards where Jay’s still on the ground. He bends to speak to him and they can see Jay nodding his head. He gets to his feet gingerly, hobbling around until the feeling comes back into his ankle.   
And the ref points at the penalty spot.   
There’s uproar. Cheers from the Walford supporters; protests from the Walthamstow players who are crowding round the ref, and the sound of his whistle blowing repeatedly to restore order.  
“Martin! Martin!” shouts Jack, trying to make himself heard over the noise. Kush notices him trying to get Martin’s attention and claps the defender on the back, pointing in Jack’s direction. Martin runs over. “He can’t take it, his leg’s gonna give ‘im trouble. You take it!” shouts Jack. “You take it!”  
A grim, determined look comes over Martin’s face. He nods, once, and begins the long, slow walk up the field.  
“Jay, stand aside,” yells Jack. “Let Martin take it.”  
The players clear the box as Martin positions the ball, and silence falls upon the entire ground.   
“One more‘d put it right outta their reach,” mutters Jack. “C’mon Fowler, c’mon.”  
Beside him, Callum holds his breath, willing Martin to put it in the back of the net.  
The goalie does a couple of star jumps, limbering up as Martin stares at the ground, giving nothing away. The whistle goes, Martin takes a few lolloping strides up to the ball and kicks and –   
A collective groan goes around the ground as the keeper saves it.  
“Off his line!” exclaims Callum as Walthamstow cheer and congratulate the keeper. Martin begins the walk back up the field with his head down.   
“Never mind, Martin, keep yer chin up,” says Jack, clapping his hands.  
“No, he was off his line!” repeats Callum.  
On the pitch, the linesman is beckoning to the referee. He jogs over to him and they confer for a good thirty seconds. Then the ref blows his whistle and points again to the penalty spot, his actions prompting outrage and disbelief among the Walthamstow team.  
“I was right!” says Callum. “He was off his line!”  
“You was right!” says Jack gleefully. “You was only bleedin’ right!”   
“You want me to go again boss?” calls Martin.  
“Bleedin’ right I do! Go on my son.”  
This time there’s no mistake. Martin boots the ball right into the top right-hand corner, to cheers and celebrations from Walford. The Walthamstow players know they’re beaten now. Their heads go down and all the fight leaves them as they start arguing amongst themselves.  
Callum watches the glee on the faces of his team and tries to feel their excitement. Right now, he feels like an outsider. He and Ben are both outsiders in this team. He wishes he had Ben’s number so he could check how he is. He’d looked like he had all the cares of the world on his shoulders when he left the changing room.  
“I’m gonna make a move, boss,” he says to Jack. “Tell the lads well done from me.”  
Jack is still beaming from ear to ear. “THAT’s how you show ‘em.” He claps Callum on the arm. “See ya on Wednesday, and rest up that ankle, you hear?”

The next day Callum’s ankle is still giving him jip. At lunchtime he decides to go for a walk to try and ease it, but is brought up short when he hears Tiff’s voice coming from the reception area. She’d been keeping out of his way since their spat at the training session. He stays behind his desk, feeling like a coward and hoping she’ll soon be on her way.   
No such luck. The door opens and she stares sulkily at him from the threshold.  
“Mornin’ Tiff.”  
She folds her arms. “I ain’t sure if I’m still speakin’ to ya.”  
“Well, if you’d prefer not to…” he says, fiddling with some paperwork on his desk.  
“But I’m prepared to give ya one more chance,” she says.  
He takes a deep breath. “Listen, Tiff, it ain’t that I’m not flattered…”  
She rests on a hip and gives him an unimpressed stare. “But?”  
“You know.”  
“No. Why dontcha tell me?”  
He rolls his eyes. He really doesn’t want to have this conversation. “Look, yer too young for me in any case, and I - ”  
“You what?”  
“I ain’t into girls.” He’d worded it like that because he hoped she would assume he meant he preferred his women a bit older, but realisation dawns on her face.  
“Yer gay? Well why didntcha say?” She shakes her head and sighs. “All the best ones always are, ain’t they?”  
She sounds so world-weary that he chuckles. “I ain’t so sure,” he says after a moment’s reflection. “All the best ones seem to be straight as far as I can tell. Or confused,” he adds as an afterthought.   
She comes further into the room with a knowing look on her face. “We’re talkin’ about that stroppy little git from football, are we?”  
He frowns as if he doesn’t know who she’s talking about, trying to throw her off the scent. “Nah, course not.”  
“Course not,” she echoes. “Well, if ya ever do want any advice about stroppy little gits, footballers or otherwise, ya can always come to me.”  
He conceals a smile. “Yeah? You the fountain of all knowledge about blokes, are ya?”  
“I know a bit, yeah.” She rolls her eyes. “Men!”

By the Wednesday his ankle is not much better, so he calls up Jack and tells him he’s not going to be there for training. They arrange that he’ll turn up early before the match on Sunday for Jack to put him through his paces to see if he’s fit to play, and he takes an easy walk down to the Chinese takeaway instead, thinking he may as well make the most of his evening if he’s going to be spending it staring at the four walls of his bedsit again.  
Back with his food, he gets engrossed in a true-crime programme on the telly and tried not to feel sorry for himself.  
It’s getting on for half-past nine when there’s an urgent knocking on his door. It’s so loud it makes him start. He’d just been nodding off, and his mind is still full of murder and violence from the true crime programme. He hesitates, but the knocking starts again.  
He crosses to the door and opens it a sliver, but it’s pushed open wider and he’s almost knocked over backwards with the force. His ankle twinges in protest.  
It’s him. His face is tear-streaked and he looks wild-eyed and scared in equal measure. “Why wasn’t you at trainin’?”  
Callum rubs a hand over his face, trying to shrug off his sleepiness. “I, uh… I’m still injured.”  
Ben steps inside the door and begins tearing off his sweatshirt. “Come on then, this is what ya want, ain’t it?”  
He throws his sweatshirt on the floor and starts on his jeans, until Callum snaps back into action, slamming the door behind him and crossing to still Ben’s hands where they’re tearing at his fly.  
“What the hell ya doin, Ben?”  
“You want this, dontcha? So here I am!”  
“Not like this!” exclaims Callum. He can smell beer on Ben’s breath and the younger man is trembling.  
Callum throws his arms around him until he stills and takes deep, gulping breaths against his shoulder. “Not like this,” repeats Callum.

SIX  
Eventually, Ben pushes him away and stands in front of him, head bowed. He looks like a little boy who’s been caught out in some misdemeanour. Callum bends to pick up his sweatshirt from where he’d flung it on the floor and hands it to him.  
“I uh… can I use yer bathroom?” asks Ben.  
“Yeah, course,” says Callum. While Ben’s in there he tries to cope with the adrenalin that’s suddenly coursing through his body. He looks around his bedsit and quickly attempts to tidy up. He puts his plate in the sink and runs some water onto it, then shoves the takeaway cartons in the bin and turns off the telly. He sits on the couch and tries to look natural. He has no idea what just happened. He can hear Ben splashing water on his face in the bathroom.  
When Ben comes back into the room he’s fully-dressed again. His hair’s wet at the temples from where he’d doused himself, and he looks shamefaced and subdued. “Sorry… ‘bout that. I thought - ” He heaves a deep breath. “I thought maybe ya wanted me.” He tries a chuckle, but it comes out sounding desperate. “Got it wrong, didn’t I?”  
“I DO want ya, Ben,” says Callum, ignoring the thousands of butterflies that take flight in his stomach as he says the words. “But I want us both to be on the same page, and I don’t think you are. I dunno what’s goin’ on for ya.”  
Ben shuts his eyes for a second or two, and then gestures towards the door. “I should go. You was probably wantin’ a quiet night, wasn’t ya?”  
“Just sit down, Ben. Please? Talk to me.” Ben looks like he’d rather bolt through the door, so Callum goes for a bit of humour. “You can’t just come in here, take yer top off, wash yer face and then leave.” He grins at him to let him know he’s joking.  
Ben twists out a faint smile, but after a second’s hesitation he does as he’s told, perching on the very edge of the couch.  
“It’s OK to be gay,” ventures Callum, worried that he’ll make a run for it if he spooks him. “I mean, I know I’m only just realisin’ that meself, but - ”  
“I know what I am, Callum,” says Ben in a hard voice. “And I know it’s OK. I’ve known for years. That ain’t the problem.”  
Callum frowns. “Then what is?”  
Ben sighs and picks at the cover of the couch. “I’ve bin fine, knowin’ I can’t have a boyfriend or one night stands or whatever. I’ve bin copin’.” He raises his head to stare directly at Callum. “But then you come along and I… I just wanted ya, and…” he shrugs helplessly.  
“I don’t get it,” says Callum, his heart giving a little flutter at the thought that Ben wants him. “Why can’t ya have any of those things?”  
“I just thought I could have this once,” says Ben, ignoring his question. “I could have ya, and then I’d get you out me system and I’d go back to bein’ OK, copin’ with it again, but it’s tearin’ me apart.” He stares plaintively at Callum. “I don’t want a one-night stand with ya. I wanna boyfriend that I can come home to at night, that I can share stuff with. Someone who looks out for me.” He smiles apologetically. “I mean, you might not want that with me – not once ya get to know me, but - ”  
“Ben,” says Callum. “I wanna give it a try.” He gestures between the two of them. “Us. I want it. But I don’t understand why that’s a problem for ya.”  
“Lexi,” says Ben simply. He sees the frown that appears on Callum’s face, and shakes his head sadly. “I’d lose her if Lo found out about me ‘n’ you. If we was to become serious, Lo’d want a divorce, and I’d lose me little girl, and I can’t have that. I couldn’t stand it.” He becomes frantic with how much he means it, and tears spring to his eyes. “I can’t lose her, Cal, an’ if it means stayin’ single, then that’s how it’s gotta be.”  
“But that’s - ”  
“Sad? Yeah, maybe.”  
“I was gonna say ‘mad’,” says Callum. “Lola’s havin’ an affair, ya told me that yerself. So why’s it OK for her but not for you?”  
Ben shrugs. “I’m OK with it, I’ve made me peace. I just don’t wanna upset things. We’re OK as we are, an’ if I turn a blind eye, we’ll stay - ”.   
“But that’s no way to live yer life!”  
Ben’s face crumples. He leans forward and hides his face in his hands. “I knew I shouldn’ta come here.”  
“Yes ya should, Ben,” says Callum. “I don’t know how yer brain works, but I do know that there’s somethin’ between us two, whether ya like it or not.” He reaches over and runs soothing strokes down Ben’s back. He’s warm, and Callum suddenly realises that this is the first time he’s really touched another human being for as long as he can remember. “And you’d be an idiot not to try and see where it leads us,” he continues. “So what if ya get divorced? You’d still get to see Lexi, wouldn’t ya?”  
Ben shakes his head. “I might get to see her, but some other bloke’d be livin’ with her. She’d be callin’ him dad and I’d get access for an hour or two every month or somethin’, whenever Lo fancied a quiet night in with her fella.”  
Callum frowns. “Is that what Lola’s told ya?”  
The silence from Ben confirms his suspicion. This is all coming from Ben’s imagination. His worries are real, but he’s decided on the worst-case scenario and it’s prevented him from living his life for seven long years. Callum feels unutterably sad at the total waste. “Ben…” he breathes.   
Behind his hands, Ben lets out a sob, and Callum pulls him into his side and curls an arm around him. Ben submits to him for a second, and then sniffs and wipes roughly at his face with his hand. “Shit! What a state! Shouldn’t think ya’d want anythin’ to do with me anyway, would ya?”  
“Course I would.”  
Ben pulls away and runs his hands through his hair. “I ain’t exactly showin’ meself in me best light here, am I?”  
“I dunno,” says Callum. “You still look pretty hot to me.” His face feels warm at how bold he’s being.  
Ben is looking quietly smug at his words. “Yeah?”  
“Yeah, I’m tellin’ ya.”  
Ben looks round at him and tries a watery smile. He clears his throat. “I’m only just realisin’, yer pretty shallow, ain’t ya?”  
“Absolutely. All about the looks, me.” They grin at each other. “Seriously though Ben, you might be worryin’ about nothin’. She might be perfectly reasonable if you wanted out the marriage. You need to talk to her. I mean, just tell her it’s theoretical at the moment. Sound her out.”  
Ben shakes his head. “Can’t. I don’t wanna put the idea in her head.”  
Callum can see he’s not going to budge. The idea that he’d lose his little girl if the marriage broke up is firmly wedged in his mind. “OK,” he says, feeling bold again. “But here’s a proposal for ya. I am gonna go crazy if I don’t get to kiss ya soon, so why don’t we see how things go, keep it quiet for as long as you want that, and see how far we wanna take it. What d’ya say?” He can see that Ben’s weighing it up. “You might decide ya can’t stand me after a week, so…”  
Ben huffs a quiet laugh. “Can’t see that happenin’. I already like ya quite a lot, from what I’ve seen of ya.”  
“Yeah?” Callum grins, delighted at how they seem to have swerved into flirting with each other. “You’d better get over here then, cos I wanna have me wicked way with ya before this night is out.”  
“You sure? I mean, yer ankle’s still playin’ ya up, ain’t it? I don’t wanna injure you even more. Jack’d have me guts for garters.”  
“Forget about me ankle,” says Callum. “It’s just bruised.”  
He tries to pull Ben into his side again, but Ben slides away from him and onto the floor. He kneels at his feet. “Which one was it again?”  
“Me right one,” says Callum, wondering where the hell Ben is going with this.  
Ben gently pulls the leg of his jeans up and then eases his sock down as far as it will go, sucking in a breath as he uncovers the bruised area. Then he bows his head and plants soft kisses all over it.  
This was not what Callum had been expecting. It had never even crossed his mind that the ankle might be an erogenous zone, but he throws his head back on the couch and tries to control his breathing. “I can feel it gettin’ better already,” he breathes.  
“So,” says Ben, from his seat on the floor. “I ain’t never slept with a bloke before and I have no idea what I’m doin.”  
“I can tell that,” says Callum. “I think yer s’posed to start at the other end.”  
Ben slaps him on the knee and gently covers up his ankle again. “I’ll have you know the Victorians thought the ankle was a very indecent part of the body. S’why they covered up table legs.”  
“I’m beginnin’ to think they was onto somethin’,” says Callum.  
Ben is looking at him closely. “Oh yeah? You liked that, did ya?”  
Callum nods, trying not to look embarrassed.  
“Good to know. I shall have to remember that.” He picks himself up off the floor and sits back down beside Callum. “I’m makin’ a start on the other end now, just to give ya fair warnin’.”  
His torment from earlier suddenly seems to have been forgotten, and Callum gets an impression life around Ben is never, ever, going to be boring. He’s not sure they’ve resolved anything, but with Ben kissing him very thoroughly he’s got no wish to bring the subject up again. He’s got a feeling he’s going to need to go along for the ride and not ask too many questions.  
Only once in nine long years has Callum spent an evening just making out with someone, and it’s nice. More than nice. He’s not going to want to let Ben go at the end of the evening when he decides it’s time he went home to his family. They end up trading lazy kisses and confidences, and every now and again Ben will stop whatever he’s doing and give him a shy smile, as if he can’t quite believe his luck. Callum knows exactly how he feels.  
“How can you live in this place?” asks Ben, looking around after they’ve finally stopped kissing and he’s lying against Callum’s chest, enveloped in his arms. “It’s so tiny!”  
“Suit a small-fry like you then, wouldn’t it?” says Callum, feeling oddly protective of his little home. Ben slaps his arm.   
“And is that - ? Oh my god, it is! You’ve still got a CD player.” Ben twists around to look up at him. “You do know we’re in the twenty-first century, right? You can stream music now?”  
“Not the same though, is it?” asks Callum. He has very strong views on music. “I like to own it, have somethin’ to look at while I’m listenin’ to the music. Somethin’ to hold onto.”  
“I’ll give ya somethin’ to hold onto,” says Ben with a glint in his eye. Callum blinks at how beautiful he looks right then.   
“You know what you was sayin’?” he begins tentatively. “About not knowin’ what you was doin’ with a bloke? Well I’m the same. I ain’t really had any experience.”  
“’S OK. We can learn together, can’t we?”  
“Yeah, but maybe we can start slow, build up to the big stuff, you know?”  
Ben grins. “The big stuff? You mean me sticking me cock up yer arse?” He peers closely at Callum. “You sure you ain’t been beamed here straight from Victorian times, Cal? That would explain the ankle thing. And the CD thing.”  
“Shut up!” says Callum, embarrassed again. “Anyway,” he adds, taking his courage in his hands, “Might be me sticking mine up yours!”  
Ben snorts. “Yours and mine what? Say the words, Cal. Go on, be a big brave boy.”  
“If yer just gonna tease me I might change me mind about this,” warns Callum, his face red. “Anyway, I’m gonna google it for next time. If there is a next time.” He’s half-joking, but he’s still worried that as soon as Ben steps outside his bedsit he’ll change his mind, decide it’s all a huge mistake and go back to ignoring him again.  
“You’re gonna google it?” Ben repeats, looking delighted. “That’s hilarious!” He shifts away from Callum and starts putting his shoes back on from where he’d shed them to kneel over Callum on the couch earlier. Then he adjusts his clothing and stands up. “I gotta go. You do yer googlin’ and I’ll see you on Sunday.”  
Callum is crestfallen. “Not before?”  
“Nah, can’t get away. But we’ll leave early after the match and come back here, OK?”  
“Yeah, OK.” Callum dips his head to kiss him, and eventually Ben pulls himself away with an effort.   
“Give us yer phone,” says Ben. Callum digs around for it where it’s disappeared down the back of the couch, and hands it over. Ben punches in his number and hands it back. “I’ve enjoyed this,” he says, sounding a bit surprised. Then he turns on his heel and makes for the door. 

True to his word, on the Friday night Callum makes up for the fact that he’s missing Ben by googling anal sex, and spends a red-faced yet enjoyable evening down a rabbit hole of porn, instructional diagrams and some random religious tracts that don’t seem to be in favour. He ignores them. By the end of his research he decides he is very much in favour, and looks forward to imparting his newly-acquired knowledge to Ben at the earliest opportunity. He texts him on the Saturday morning. Worked it out. We need condoms and water-based lube x  
The reply comes almost an hour later, after he’s become frantic with his belief that Ben’s changed his mind again. OMG what a text to get halfway through family breakfast!  
He giggles, alone in his bedsit, feeling overwhelming relief that Ben’s still talking to him. You get the condoms, I’ll get the lube. OK?  
If you insist 😊 x   
Ten minutes later he gets another text. Can’t wait to see you x

SEVEN  
“Ow, ow! It ain’t gonna fit!” Ben pushes at his hips to try and get him away from him.  
“It’s already in!” huffs Callum, trying to keep his composure in the face of the signals his nerve endings are sending him. “Not very far, but if ya’d just relax. They said it’d hurt to begin with.”  
Oh yeah?” breathes Ben, his face red with strain. “Who’s they? The footie lads? Or the good gays of Wikipedia? I bet it ain’t hurtin’ you.” He scratches his stomach irritably. “I’m tellin’ ya, this ain’t natural.”  
Callum grins at his indignation. “Just relax, Ben.”  
“Whatever happened to takin’ it slow? Buildin’ up to the big stuff? Ya need way more lube, by the way. Use the whole lot.”  
“You were the one said we should try it! Besides, it’s bin nine years since I’ve had sex of any description, I ain’t waitin’ any longer.”  
“Only cos yer not the one bein’ impaled! I’m beginnin’ to think I might go back to women, mate.” Despite his words, the hand Ben runs over Callum’s arm is gentle.  
“Stop moanin’! OK, I’ll pull out and put more lube on, but only if ya promise not to run away.”  
“The way me arse is feelin’ at the moment, I won’t be runnin’ anywhere.”  
“Yer such a cry-baby!”  
“Am not!”  
Callum reaches over for the lube. “Wait there.”  
“Just give me another blow job, no pain involved in them.”  
“Only to me jaw.”  
“Well that’s cos ya gotta relax, Cal.”  
Callum gives him a severe look as he administers more lube. “Ain’t that just what I’ve bin sayin’ to you?”  
“Not the same thing. Not the same thing at all.” Ben lies back with his arms folded, looking for all the world like a kid having a tantrum. He stares Callum out, with just the hint of a glint in his eyes.  
Callum is overwhelmed with fondness for him, and bends over him to kiss him. Despite Ben’s sulk, he responds immediately. “Right,” Callum says, pulling back at last. “Let’s give this another go.”

Ben might have thought he was in pain, but he didn’t know real pain. Football that Sunday had been absolute torture. Callum had arrived early to be put through his paces by Jack, who’d reluctantly agreed that he was fit to play. “You shout as soon as ya feel the slightest twinge though, ya hear me?”  
Callum had been relieved. He’d had no idea how he was going to get through an entire match, watching Ben from the touchline and knowing what they were planning to do later. As it was, he’d been totally distracted for most of the first half, letting through a couple of easy balls and being completely out-run by the opponents. At half-time, Jack had put it down to his injury and been pretty forgiving, but Callum had resolved to try harder in the second half, putting all thoughts of Ben out of his mind. It had been hard though, when the git had insisted on winking at him whenever he got the chance, or on one occasion retreating from a tackle they’d both gone in on when he was way out of position with a swagger that Callum knew was meant entirely for him, leaving him flustered and oblivious to the calls for him to take a throw-in until Keegan had nudged him and given him a hard stare.  
In the clubhouse after a two-nil defeat, he’d endured teasing from Martin about being the defender with the lowest goal tally after Martin’s penalty against Walthamstow, and had submitted with good grace. Ben had been running late getting changed, and when he’d appeared at his side, Callum had asked what he was drinking.  
“I aint,” Ben had said. “Gonna make a move.” His tone had been flat, and his face blank. Callum’s heart had sunk. He’d got cold feet. He was going to start avoiding him again. He’d walked out without another word, and Callum had stared after him in despair.  
“What was that about this time?” Jay had asked from beside him. “Stroppy git.”  
“No idea,” Callum had sighed, all his hopes for the evening dashed. He’d taken a long sip of his beer and tried to begin the process of believing it didn’t matter.  
Five minutes later, his phone had pinged with a text. It had been from him. Make it a half x  
He’d been flooded with relief, and hadn’t been able to prevent a wide grin from spreading over his face.  
“Yer lookin’ chipper all of a sudden,” Martin had said. “You on a promise?”  
Callum had tried to school his features into a more non-committal expression. “Dunno what ya mean,” he’d said. “It was just a marketin’ thing from Dominos Pizzas.”  
“Blimey,” Martin had said. “I wish pizza made me that happy.”  
“I take pleasure in the simple things,” Callum had said solemnly, then he’d gone to mingle with the others thinking it might make his absence less obvious, and taken his leave ten minutes later.  
Ben had been waiting outside his building when he got there, shivering from the cold. “Blimey, yer a slow drinker,” he’d said in greeting. “I bin waitin’ here bleedin’ ages.”  
“Sorry, didn’t want anyone puttin’ two and two together.” Callum had unlocked the door to his bedsit with Ben almost glued to his back and as they’d fallen through the door they’d found each other’s lips, collapsing onto the bed as it was the nearest piece of furniture.  
Which is how they came to the point they found themselves at, two hours later and having run through a range of activities that had led them to this. They’d experimented, trying new things and learning what each liked and disliked, until Ben had decreed that they were ready for the ‘big stuff’ and then promptly decided he hated it.   
Callum positions himself over Ben and begins very slowly and gently guiding himself in again, watching Ben’s face carefully for signs of discomfort. He’s concentrating hard, his eyes screwed shut and a faint grimace on his face. Callum slides in much easier than on his last attempt, feeling overwhelmed and a little bit awed at the messages his cock is sending, and tries a few experimental thrusts. Ben takes deep breaths in and out. “It shouldn’t be this tricky, should it?” he huffs out. “If ya gotta put this much effort in, it can’t be right.”  
Callum grins down at him, even though he still has his eyes tight shut. “I know what I’m doin’”.  
“Oh yeah, cos you spent ten minutes on google? Mastermind, you are.”  
Ben’s sounding so thoroughly pissed off that Callum chuckles, in spite of himself. At that, Ben’s eyes shoot wide open and he sucks in a big draft of air.  
“Whatsup?” asks Callum, full of concern. “Did I hurt ya?”   
“Never, ever stop doin’ that!” exclaims Ben. “Honestly, Cal, find that angle again. Oh my god!”  
“Good?” asks Callum.  
“More than good!”  
If Callum lives to be a hundred he’ll never forget the sounds Ben made as he was getting close and then tipped over the edge. They lie together afterwards in a sticky, tangled mess, panting loudly, and Callum feels like they’ve been through some kind of bonding ceremony. His feelings for Ben have increased a hundredfold and, despite what he’d said before, he doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to let him go. This isn’t about seeing where the experience takes them. They’re already there, and he’s in deep.  
“I don’t think I can move another muscle tonight,” says Ben, when he’s finally able to speak.  
“Good,” says Callum. “You’ll havta stay here then, won’tcha?”  
“Can’t,” says Ben, sounding regretful. He shifts round onto an elbow and reaches for his phone. “I’d better set an alarm so I don’t fall asleep. I can stay for another couple of hours though.”  
Callum supposes he’s going to have to get used to this, taking whatever Ben can give him. Already it feels like it’s not enough. He props himself up and lies facing Ben, scrutinising his face. “Was it OK?”  
He sees a soft look come into Ben’s eyes, and a faint smile playing around his lips. “It was so much more than OK, Cal. Blimey! I ain’t felt nothin’ like it. Next time, right, I do it to you, OK?”  
“Deal!” Callum burrows down beneath the duvet, suddenly realising how cold the air is outside the bed. “I feel like all me Christmasses have come at once.”  
“Yeah?” Ben snuggles in against him. “Real Christmas soon. Whatcha doin’ for it?”  
“Don’t really do a lot,” says Callum. “’S just another day, ain’t it?”  
Ben raises his head to stare closely at him. “You ain’t got no family to go to?”  
“Nah.” He meets the pitying look Ben is giving him with a defiant one of his own. “What you doin’?”  
“Family Christmas. Lexi loves it, she gets so excited.” He smiles, with a faraway look in his eyes. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”  
“Whatcha gettin’ her this year?”  
“Ooh loads. Too much, probably. I spoil her, we all do.”  
Watching his excitement, Callum suddenly feels incredibly lonely. Most years, he’d had the army lads to share the festival with and it hadn’t really mattered that there was no family sending him Christmas greetings or making up little parcels to send out to him. “Send me a text, will ya?” he asks. “On Christmas Day. Just so’s I know you’ve remembered me.”  
Ben squeezes in close. “Course I will, Cal. Course. Couldn’t forget ya, could I?” He kisses him hard, as if to prove the truth of his statement.

The last match before Christmas is away at Stratford. They’re beginning to slip down the table, so they’re all conscious that they need to win it if they’re to stop the rot. They play their hearts out and come away with a one-nil victory, which they celebrate in Stratford’s clubhouse until late that night. Callum is grumpy, despite their win, because he’s discovered a flaw in his and Ben’s plans.   
They can’t sneak away together after every match. Someone will cotton on and put two and two together, so they have to intersperse their meet-ups with post-match drinks, either both of them staying late or one leaving and the other staying. In practice, between training sessions and actual matches, this means they can usually only meet up once every couple of weeks, and it’s just not enough. On this occasion, after the Stratford match, they have to make do with a hurried exchange of kisses behind a garage on the way back to the bus stop, their hands freezing and their breath fogging between their lips.  
“This ain’t enough,” says Callum as they pull apart. “I want more.”  
“I can’t give ya more, Callum,” says Ben in a warning voice. “You knew what you was gettin’ with me.”  
He steps away, but Callum pulls him back in and kisses him again. “Don’t go yet,” he murmurs between kisses. “Please.”  
“Don’t wanna,” says Ben, his voice softening again. He burrows his hands underneath Callum’s jacket and Callum shivers as he feels them, cold against his ribs.   
They hear the sound of some of the other lads making their way from the football ground to the bus stop, and stand stock still, hoping against hope that they won’t be discovered, until the voices recede into the distance and they can breathe again.   
Ben looks around them. The garage they’re leaning up against is on the edge of a trading estate, dark and deserted at this time on a Sunday evening. He steps back from Callum and then drops to his knees without a word, fumbling with his fly. Callum gasps as he feels the cold night air hit his cock, closely followed by the warm wetness of Ben’s mouth. He throws his head back against the wall behind him, losing himself in the feelings Ben is prompting, and does his best not to rock his hips, just letting Ben control the pace and the angle. As he’s getting close, he hears Jack and Martin chatting as they walk down the road on the other side of the garage, and holds his breath until they’ve passed, at the same time as Ben stills on his cock. They stare at each fearfully, Ben’s face half in shadow from the pattern of light thrown by a nearby streetlamp, and when Jack and Martin have passed by, Ben gets to his feet and finishes Callum off with his hand, planting a kiss just below his ear as he comes. Callum thinks that might be his new favourite thing.

The funeral parlour closes over Christmas, so he finishes work early on the Christmas Eve and battles his way around the supermarket, throwing a few Christmassy things into his trolley but not really feeling it in the slightest. At the checkout he’s surrounded by excited kids and happy families, and feels increasingly miserable, thinking of the Christmas Ben’s going to have compared to his own. He doesn’t begrudge it, but he wishes he could be with him.  
Back at the bedsit, which he’s not bothered to decorate apart from the one Christmas card he’d received from Mr Coker, placed on top of the microwave, he heats up a ready-meal and settles down to try and find something on telly that makes absolutely no mention of Christmas. He settles on an old episode of Top Gear, and cracks open a small bottle of whisky he’d bought to help him through the holidays.  
He’s on his third glass and on the telly Jeremy Clarkson and James May are trashing a caravan, when there’s a knock on the door. His heart leaps. He knows it’ll be Ben before he even crosses to open it.  
“I can’t stop,” says Ben immediately. He’s bundled up in a thick jacket and scarf, and the tip of his nose is red from the cold.  
“At least come in,” says Callum.  
“Can’t. We all know what’ll happen if I do. I just popped round to bring ya this.” He holds out a small Christmas present, wrapped in holly-covered paper.  
Callum takes it, feeling embarrassed. “I ain’t bought ya anythin’!”   
“Don’t matter. You can give me the best seein-to of me life when we next get together. That’s the best Christmas present I could wish for.” He smiles softly at him, and then steps in close and kisses him. “Have a good Christmas Cal. I’ll see ya on Boxin’ Day for the match.”  
Callum feels a little bit like crying. He swallows down the lump in his throat. “You comin’ back here after?”  
Ben grins. “Try an’ stop me!”

After he’s gone, Callum opens the present he’d brought. From the size and shape, it’s clearly a CD. When he rips the paper off, he sees that it’s an Ella Fitzgerald collection. He stares at it, bemused, and then sets it to one side.  
By mid-morning on Christmas Day he’s gone out for a walk but come back quickly after bumping into family after family with excited kids on new bikes and scooters, and sets about cooking himself some lunch. He’d not seen much point in buying everything for a full Christmas dinner, so he roasts a chicken and eats it in front of the telly. He tries not to think about the sort of Christmas Ben’s having.  
After lunch he washes up and then picks up the CD Ben had bought him. Slotting it into the CD player, he reads through the booklet that came with it as Ella begins singing about Manhattan in her rich, melodious tones.  
He flicks to the middle pages of the booklet where the track listing is laid out. Against ‘Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered’ is a message in Ben’s scrawling hand. “This is my favourite. It reminds me of you. Love you Cal, B x  
His phone rings about half an hour later. He glances at it fearfully, suspecting it might be his dad, before feeling the relief of recognising the number. It’s Ben.  
“Happy Christmas babe,” he says when Callum picks up the call. “I can’t stop long. I’ve just sneaked out into the Square for five minutes, said I needed some air.”  
Callum’s pulse quickens. “Happy Christmas. Thanks for the present, it’s lovely.”  
“You playin’ it now?”  
“Yeah, makes me feel a bit closer to ya.” Immediately Callum feels like an idiot. “Sorry, ignore me, I’m just missin’ ya.” He can hear Ben’s breath as he walks along, and voices in the background on his end of the line as he passes people.  
“Yeah, this ain’t workin’ is it?”  
“What?” Ella starts singing about her Funny Valentine as Callum’s heart drops to the floor. “You don’t wanna see me no more?”  
He hears a crackle on the line as Ben huffs out a laugh. “Course I do. I just meant, only seein’ ya once in a blue moon ain’t workin’. Come the new year we’re gonna have to sort somethin’ else out, ain’t we? Get together more regular like.”  
“Oh! Yeah,” Callum chuckles in relief. “Um, what ya said, in the CD booklet.”  
“Yeah?” Ben’s tone is guarded.  
“I feel it too.” Callum says. “I love ya. Happy Christmas Ben.”

EIGHT  
He wakes up on Boxing Day morning feeling a hundred times lighter and happier than he had on Christmas Day. He spends the morning changing the bedclothes ready for Ben later, and tidying up the bedsit. Then he grabs a quick bite to eat and sets off for the football ground.  
They’re at home to Hoxton Harriers, a team who are currently dawdling at the bottom of the table, compared with Walford’s seventh, so it should be an easy run-out.  
When he gets to the changing room, most of the lads are already there, complaining that they’re too full of turkey to be able to run. Callum can hear Ben’s voice before he even opens the door. Seems he’s in good spirits. There’s a chorus of greetings for Callum, but Ben doesn’t even turn to look at him, and he’s one of the first heading out to the pitch after Jack’s team talk. Callum follows up behind after struggling with a tangled bootlace, but as he gets to the door, Ben has somehow managed to drop to the back of the pack. He draws level with Callum and lets the others get out of earshot, then gives his hand a quick little squeeze, keeping his eyes straight ahead.   
“Can’t wait for later,” he murmurs out of the side of his mouth.  
“Me neither,” says Callum, flooded with relief after he’d started to think a day spent in the company of his family, had changed Ben’s mind about the two of them.  
They descend the steps out onto the field together, hanging back a bit from the others so that they can talk more.   
“Missed ya yesterday,” says Callum, trying to acclimatise to the cold air. “You have a good day?”  
“Yeah, it was lovely,” says Ben. “Lexi loved it, she - ”  
He clams up and then suddenly jogs away from Callum without another word. Initially bemused, Callum sees him stop in front of a couple of women with a little girl, and it all makes sense: Lexi, and Lola, and presumably the older woman is Ben’s mother. He watches as Ben picks up the little girl and swings her round, and then rests her on his hip as he stands talking to the women. She stretches her arms around his neck and rests her head on his shoulder. Callum’s never seen this side of Ben before, and he can’t help but stare. He catches the eye of the older woman and she smiles across at him.  
He raises a hand in greeting, and sees the woman say something to Ben, who turns to see who she’s talking about. His eyes harden and he puts Lexi back down. Callum hears him say his name as he turns back to the women.  
“You come to watch us get thrashed?” he asks politely as he draws level with them. He focusses on the older woman, but he’s aware that Ben’s wife is staring at him closely.  
“Ben says yer doin’ a bit better this season,” says the older woman. “We might even see ya win one.”  
He grins. “Yeah, maybe.”  
“All thanks to Cal here, ain’t it?” says Ben. “We’ve actually got a decent defence this year.” He doesn’t sound quite natural, and Callum can see from his body language he’s on edge. Lola looks from Callum to Ben and back at Callum again. When he looks over at her, she smiles faintly but her eyes are appraising.  
“Dunno about that,” he says bashfully, in answer to Ben’s assertion.   
“Well, we can only stay til half-time,” says the woman. “So you’d better score a few early goals. Goin’ to Ben’s dad’s for the evenin’,” she adds for Callum’s benefit. “I still don’t know how ya got out of that, Ben.”  
“I told ya, it’s tradition. We all have a bit of a session after,” says Ben. “Boxing Day, ain’t it? We’ve all gotta compare the dodgy jumpers we got given for Christmas.”  
“Well don’t overdo it. I don’t wantcha comin’ in trashed in the early hours, wakin’ us all up.”  
“Alright, alright,” Ben retreats, holding his hands up in surrender. He blows a kiss at his daughter. “Bye princess, see ya tomorrow. Have a nice time at Grandad’s.”  
Lexi waves at him from where she’s now leaning against her mum’s legs. “Bye daddy. Bye Callum.”  
Callum is taken aback, but grins in pleasure and gives her a little wave. “Bye sweetheart. Nice to meet ya,” he adds to Lola and Ben’s mother.  
“You too darlin’,” says the older woman. Lola gives him a tight smile.  
“Yer mum’s nice,” says Callum as he and Ben head across to the pitch.  
“You shouldn’t even have spoke to me mum,” says Ben in a hard tone. “You and her are different parts of me world.” Then he jogs ahead and joins the others, already doing warm-ups on the pitch.  
Callum’s distracted again during the first half. He gets that Ben’s risking a lot to be with him, but his reaction earlier had made Callum feel like he resented him, despite what Ben might have written in that CD booklet. He just can’t keep up with Ben’s mood swings, and begins to think he might be on a hiding to nothing. Who’s to say Ben will ever summon the courage to leave Lola and live a more authentic life? It’s only just beginning to hit Callum that he might always be one side of a triangle that Ben has no intention of dismantling. He can hardly start giving Ben ultimatums, but he doesn’t know how long he could put up with that kind of an arrangement, whatever his feelings about Ben.   
From time to time he glances across to the touchline where Ben’s family are watching. Any time he looks over Lola seems to be staring in his direction, and more so when she’s left there alone after Ben’s mum goes off to the swings across the other side of the park with Lexi. He wonders why she’s so interested in him. Ben can’t have given anything away about the two of them, can he? Maybe she fancies him. Callum knows she plays away, so maybe she’s casting around for a new partner. He really hopes not. THAT conversation would be the very definition of awkward.  
Luckily, defending against Hoxton doesn’t take a lot of concentration. They’re slow and unskilled, and by half-time Walford are already two up. Nevertheless, Callum trudges off the pitch feeling like all the happiness and optimism he woke up with that morning has long since disappeared. He feels sluggish and glum as he heads back to the changing rooms a few paces behind Jay, who’s in conversation with Lola. She seems to know most of the team and calls greetings to a few of them as they jog past.   
She parts company with Jay at the bottom of the steps to the changing rooms, and when Callum draws level with her, she turns to speak to him. “Tell Ben we’re off now, will ya?”  
“Uh,” Callum looks behind him, only now realising that Ben’s still not left the pitch. He’s in conversation with Jack and Max, doing a few stretches, presumably to keep warm, as he talks to them. “Yeah, course.”  
“Thanks.” She doesn’t look as if she’s going anywhere fast, and eventually she says, “So you’re the newbie.”  
“I am.”  
“Ben talks about ya quite a bit.” She’s staring at him with that tight gaze again.   
“Yeah?”  
“Yeah.” She folds her arms and shifts onto one hip.  
“Impressed with me mad footie skillz, is he?” asks Callum, trying to prick the suddenly awkward feel to their conversation. “They are pretty impressive.”  
“He gets these little… enthusiasms,” she continues, unsmiling. “Obsessions, you could say. I wouldn’t take it too serious. He gets bored quite easily, too.”  
He frowns, going cold. “Sorry, I dunno what yer - ”  
“He’s got responsibilities. Know what I mean?”  
“Lexi, yeah. I get that.”  
“Long as ya do,” she says. Then she turns and walks away without another word. 

If he was distracted in the first half, it’s nothing compared to his lack of concentration in the second. It’s so bad that twice Jack screams at him to get a grip, and the final whistle can’t come too soon. They end up winning three-nil, but he can’t find it in himself to care. Back in the changing room he doesn’t even stop to shower, just changes as quickly as he can and makes excuses about feeling like he’s coming down with a cold to avoid the post-match drinks. As he’s packing his kit away, he hears Ben telling the other lads he can’t come out with them either because he’s got a Boxing Day thing at his dad’s. The lie comes easily. Callum wonders how many other lies Ben’s told recently. He wonders if he’s just the latest in a long line of ‘obsessions’.  
“Right, before anyone leaves,” says Jack. “New Year’s Eve party at mine. Eight til late, yer all invited, partners too and bring bottles and music. My Denise’s collection’s crap.”  
He receives a barrage of good-natured ribbing from the lads, during which Callum takes his leave and wanders slowly back towards the bus stop, head down and mood low. A minute or so later he hears a shout behind him. “Wait up Cal!”  
Ben jogs up to him and shoulder barges him. “Thought I could have a shower at yours,” he says. “With you.”  
“Ya still wanna?” asks Callum, unable to keep the bitterness out of his voice.   
“Course I do.” Ben stops walking. “Hold up, what’s goin’ on Cal?”  
Callum keeps plodding on ahead.  
“I asked you a question!”  
Callum turns slowly to face him. “How many affairs have ya had?”  
“What?” Ben grins, as if he thinks he’s joking, but the grin fades from his face as he sees that Callum isn’t laughing.   
“You seem to be pretty good at lyin’,” says Callum. “Tellin’ yer family yer goin’ out with the lads. Tellin’ the lads yer stayin’ in with yer family.”  
“So we could get a bit of time together, Cal,” says Ben. “I lied for us.” He steps closer as if he’s going to touch Callum, but then looks around, conscious that they could be seen at any minute. “Yer not that naïve Callum, that you wouldn’t expect a bit of sneakin’ around, not bein’ totally honest with people. We’re havin’ an affair. That’s what happens in these situations.”  
Callum gives a wry smile. “Sounds like you’ve got it all worked out. Sounds like ya know exactly how these ‘situations’ go.”  
“What’s that supposed to mean?”  
Suddenly, Callum feels tired. So tired. “Don’t matter.” He turns to leave, but Ben pulls him back by his sleeve.   
“No, don’t walk away! I wanna know what you meant!”  
Callum shrugs.  
“Is this cos I snapped at ya after you spoke to me mum? Cos I’m sorry, OK?”   
Ben steps closer to him, and Callum’s suddenly hit with the fear that the footie lads will leave the ground and see them together. “Can we please keep walking?”  
Ben stares at him, trying to work out what’s going on for him, but he doesn’t move so Callum rolls his eyes and turns to carry on down the road.  
At that, Ben falls into step beside him, but persists in trying to find out what he was talking about. “I’m tryin’ to keep everythin’ separate, Cal, cos that just makes it easier.”  
Callum snorts. “Easier for who?”  
“For me! D’ya think I like all this sneakin’ around?”  
“Have ya done it before?”  
“Of course not! Where’s this coming from all of a sudden?”  
“Don’t matter,” says Callum again.  
“That ain’t fair,” says Ben. “You come out with all this stuff, accusin’ me of all sorts, and I don’t even know why.”  
They reach the bus stop and sit two spaces apart waiting for the bus.   
“Shall I just go home?” asks Ben eventually.  
Callum leans his head back against the bus shelter. He doesn’t know what to say. Would it be better to stop things now, before he gets in too deep? Even as he thinks it, he realises he’s way past that point already. “Does Lola know?” he asks. “About you?”  
Ben sighs, but the bus picks that exact moment to arrive, so his answer is delayed as they board and make their way to a seat upstairs, where the bus is almost deserted apart from an old man sitting right at the back. When they’re settled, he takes a deep breath. “Yeah. Lola knows I’m gay, if that’s what you was askin’. She’s known for years, but I gave her me word I wouldn’t abandon her or Lex.”   
“But that ain’t fair of her!” exclaims Callum. “So, what? She lets ya have affairs as long as ya don’t go off for good? And what about her affairs?”  
Ben leans over and rests his head on Callum’s shoulder. “I ain’t ever had an affair, Cal, and that’s the god’s honest truth. Where’s all this comin’ from?”  
“One night stands?” asks Callum, his shoulders still tense.  
“No! Nothin’. Has she said somethin’ to ya?”  
Callum tries to pick his words carefully, feeling that he’s in the middle of something he doesn’t understand. “I think… I think she was tryin’ to warn me off ya.”  
“Was she?” Ben’s tone turns hard. “She ain’t got no room to talk.”  
“Listen, I don’t wanna get caught in the middle of whatever games you two’re playin - ”  
“We ain’t playin’ games, Cal. Honest! She’s probably worried cos she senses I’m serious about ya. She ain’t never had anyone to feel threatened by before. I’ve got a responsibility to Lex, but I’m also fallin’ in love with you. The two things are totally separate.” He turns his head and plants a soft kiss on Callum’s jaw. “I wouldn’t mess ya around, Cal, promise.”  
Callum wants nothing more than to capture his lips in a kiss, but residual mistrust and a lack of confidence in his new persona as an almost-out gay man, especially with other people around prevents it. Instead he strokes at the fabric of Ben’s jeans, and lets him continue to nose at his jaw as the bus follows its winding way back to Walford. “Why did she say you get obsessions?” he asks eventually.  
Ben snorts. “Is that what she said?” He reflects for a second or two. “Cos I ‘spose I’ve had crushes in the past that she mighta known about. I mean, I probably ain’t exactly subtle. I ain’t never acted on ‘em though. There was a bloke in the footie team a few years back. He didn’t stick around though – and before ya ask, no, I didn’t do anythin’ with it.”  
The man behind them gets off a couple of stops out from the Square. As he makes his way down the bus to the stairs he sucks his teeth and mutters something about ‘batty boys’.   
“Yeah, you gotta a problem with that?” snaps Ben, turning from gentle to angry in a split second. Callum tries to hush him as the man continues on his way. “Fuckin - ”  
“Ben,” says Callum. They’re alone on the top deck now. “Kiss me. Forget about him.”  
They pass the rest of the short ride kissing each other, Callum trying to feel in Ben’s caresses that he’s sincere, and Ben trying to prove to Callum the strength of his feeling. As they turn into the Square he nuzzles Callum’s jaw and whispers, “I do love ya, Cal. Please believe me. Just forget about all the other stuff for now.”  
Callum dares to hope that his ‘for now’ means maybe things will change in the not-too-distant future. He tries to summon up the feelings he’d had that morning, optimism and happiness. They’ve got a good few hours together now, and he should make the most of it.

When they get back to his bedsit, Ben heads straight for the bathroom. “Gonna get the shower started,” he calls over his shoulder.  
“Yeah, make yerself at home,” Callum calls back, only half-sarcastically. He busies himself taking his dirty football kit out of his bag and shoving it into the washing machine to wash tomorrow, and places his keys in the bowl he’s set aside on the counter for just that purpose. When he enters the bathroom it’s already filling up with steam, and Ben is sitting on the floor taking off his trainers. He stands up and starts to pull off his shirt, but Callum stops him. “Let me undress ya.” He dips his head to kiss Ben, and then starts to unbutton his shirt, pushing it off his shoulders and kissing every inch of skin he uncovers. “I’m sorry,” he says in between kisses. “I shouldn’ta doubted ya.”  
“’S OK.” Ben lets out a stuttering breath, and fumbles with Callum’s belt. “We’re both still learnin’, ain’t we? Gonna take time to get it right.”  
Shower sex isn’t as good as either of them had imagined, probably something to do with the height difference and the fact that if one of them’s underneath the jet of water, the other one’s out in the cold, so they pack it in pretty quick, dry each other off and jump straight into bed. They’re getting accomplished at what they do together, even if Callum does say so himself. They fit together so well, and both spend as much effort on making the other feel good as they do making sure they get what they need for themselves. After they’ve got each other off twice, Ben sets the alarm on his phone, as is his custom, and they slip in and out of sleep, waking up to spend time talking quietly and lying in each other’s arms, before one will realise mid-sentence that the other one’s fallen asleep again and curl around them to drop off too, being soothed by the sound of the other one’s breathing. It feels domestic, homely, and Callum craves it for the long-term. He wants it always, not just for the few hours at a time Ben can spare him.  
The next time Ben awakes from dozing he says he’s hungry, so Callum slides out of bed and in the light of the open microwave gathers a few bits and pieces from the kitchen, before diving back into the warmth of their bed.   
“So, you gonna go to Jack’s party?” Ben asks through a mouthful of mince pie.   
“Yeah, should be good,” says Callum. “You?” In truth, he’s relieved that he’s got an invitation to something so he doesn’t have to spend the evening on his own. Being alone at Christmas was bad enough.  
“Might do if you’re gonna be there.” Ben swallows the rest of his mince pie and crumples up the foil it came in. “I’ll have to go with Lola though. Keep up appearances.” He reaches over and strokes Callum’s cheek. “I’m sure we’ll be able to sneak away to a dark corner for a few minutes though.” He smiles, but then sees something in Callum’s expression that causes the smile to fade. “ ‘S all I can do, Cal.”  
“I know,” says Callum sadly. He doesn’t want to cause another argument, not tonight. He kisses Ben’s lips and that turns into kissing a trail down his chest, over his stomach and lower. Callum’s getting really good at this, if the breaths and moaning he elicits from Ben are anything to go by.

Callum’s warm and cosy, smushed up against Ben’s chest having a dream about viewing posh show homes on the Isle of Sheppey when Ben’s alarm goes off. The younger man twitches at the sound, and takes a while to wake up. Callum almost doesn’t want him to, but eventually he whispers, “Ben, alarm.”  
It’s dark in the room now, apart from the light of the open microwave, and the Square outside is as silent as it ever gets.   
“Mm,” answers Ben. “Wakin’ up.” He sighs and stretches, then shifts over to face Callum. “It’s so warm in ‘ere.”  
“Yeah. Cold outside,” mumbles Callum.  
Ben rubs at his eyes. “Wish I didn’t havta go.”  
“Me too.” Callum sits up, immediately shivering as he feels the colder air outside on the bed on his chest. “Let me walk back with ya.”  
“No, don’t be daft. You just snuggle back down and go to sleep. I won’t take a second to get dressed, then I’ll be out yer hair.”  
As Callum falls back onto his pillow, still half-asleep, Ben reaches over and switches on the bedside light, then turns to look at Callum. He smiles softly. “Ya look - ”  
“What?”  
He turns his gaze away and picks at the bedclothes, huffing a laugh. “’S stupid. I was gonna say ya look beautiful.” He shrugs, and looks back round at Callum, as if he thinks Callum’s going to laugh at him. “God, imagine if the footie lads heard me talkin’ like that!”  
“Forget about them,” says Callum, reaching out to still Ben’s hand. “I’m glad ya think I look beautiful. Ain’t nothin’ to laugh at in that.”  
“No?” Ben lies back down, resting his head on Callum’s chest, and Callum smooths his fingers through his hair.   
“Definitely not.” After a few seconds, he adds, “Don’t fall back asleep again Ben.”  
“I won’t. I just wanna few more seconds with ya.”   
They lie in silence apart from the hum of the fridge over in the kitchen area, listening to each other breathing, until Callum fears Ben’s fallen asleep again. “Ben,” he murmurs quietly.  
At that, Ben sits up abruptly. “Yeah, I know, I know.” He gets out of bed and stretches, as Callum drinks in the sight of him. “Jeez, it’s freezin’ out here.”  
“Get some clothes on, quick.”  
“You live in an ice-box, Cal. We’ll havta get ya somewhere better to live.” Ben’s smile fades from his face as he realises the possible implications of that comment. He clears his throat awkwardly and heads to the bathroom to pick up his clothes without another word.  
He’s all bundled up in his clothes and coat when he comes back into the room, and he crosses to sit on the side of the bed. Callum sits up and hugs him, feeling strangely vulnerable now that Bens dressed and he’s still naked. “I wish ya didn’t havta go,” he says.  
“If I don’t go, I can’t come back,” says Ben. Callum frowns up at him. He supposes there’s some logic in that, somewhere.   
It seems that Ben’s shrugged back on his ‘facing the rest of the world’ persona along with his clothes. Gone is the sleepy tone of earlier. He’s almost business-like as he pushes Callum away and stands up. “I’ll see ya soon, Cal. Go back to sleep.” He crosses to the door and picks up his bag from where he’d dropped it when they arrived.  
“Night Ben,” murmurs Callum trying to ignore the way his heart feels like it’s ripping apart in his chest.  
Ben turns at the door, one hand on the latch. “Night Cal.” He pauses, and then returns to sit on the bed again. Taking Callum in his arms he kisses him, hard, and then pulls away. This time when he gets to the door, he steps straight through and closes it quietly behind him. Callum lies quietly, listening to the sound of his footsteps receding. He imagines he can still hear them long after Ben’s probably reached his home. 

NINE  
As it turns out, he doesn’t see Ben again until Jack’s new year’s eve party. There’s another match the day before, but Ben doesn’t appear, and neither does Jay. Apparently this time, Ben has actually called in his apologies, something about Lexi being ill and Lola not being available to look after her. Nevertheless, their combined no-shows have Jack swearing and sighing before the match as he tries to re-jig the team to make up for their absence. He puts Callum out on the wing, and Callum gets the run-around of his life, although he does also score a goal, his first of the season. He only pushes a weak little bobbling ball across the line from a couple of yards out after a muddle in the goal-mouth, but they all count and he’s glad to have some ammunition in the friendly competition that’s growing with Martin.  
“I think we’re gonna have to have points for style of goal as well as goal count,” says Martin after they come away with a one-all draw. “Cos I’d win that hands-down.”  
“Yeah, yeah,” says Callum. “Whatever. They cleared the field for yours. At least I ‘ad to beat a few players, so I think we ought to award points for technical difficulty too.”  
He heads for the showers as Martin snorts in response.  
The evening of the party, he’s running late after being kept back at work, and almost decides not to go at all. Only the prospect of seeing Ben makes him shower and change into his best shirt and jeans after making himself some dinner, and he gets there well after ten. He grabs the couple of bottles of wine and six-pack of beers he’d bought to take, along with a random collection of CDs and heads across the Square to Jack’s. The house is lit up in every window and music and chat sound in the cold night air. Callum’s not quite sure how he feels about being there while Ben’s there with Lola. He’s going to have to watch his every move and look so he doesn’t give away how he feels about him.  
The first person he sees as he gets through the front door is Tiff. His heart sinks. He’d thought they’d got past her little crush on him. “What you doin’ here?” he asks her.  
“Lovely to see you an’ all,” she fires back. “I ain’t stalkin’ ya, don’t worry. I’ve moved on Cal, turns out you weren’t all that after all.”   
He throws her a look, part relieved, part offended.   
“Nah, I’m here with Keegs.”  
“Glad to hear it,” he says, wholly relieved. Through the door to the dining room he catches sight of Lola’s blond hair, and his heart skips a beat. He tries not to crane his neck to see if Ben’s by her side. He waves a farewell to Tiff and goes in search of Jack. He finally spots him in the kitchen chatting to Jay and a woman who Callum guesses must be Denise, from the way Jack’s grabbing her waist possessively.   
“Ah, here he is,” says Jack when Callum greets him and hands over his armful of drinks and CDs. “Our star defender.”  
“Alright mate?” asks Jay. “You here on yer own?”  
“Yeah, billy no-mates, that’s me,” says Callum.  
Denise makes sympathetic noises, as Jay says, “Join the club, mate.”   
Callum’s surprised. He grabs one of the cans of beers he’d brought. “You ain’t got a girlfriend?”  
“Not so’s ya’d notice,” says Jay. They stay chatting to Jack and Denise for quite a while, and then when they have to go and play hosts, Jay steers Callum away from the crowded kitchen and across the hallway to a quieter sitting room, where they sit side by side on the couch. “Yer a bit of a mystery man, Callum. What d’ya do when you ain’t playin’ footie, for a start?”  
“Not a lot, to be honest,” says Callum. “I work at Cokers on the Square.”  
“And..?”  
“And what? There ain’t nothin’ else to tell.”  
Jay looks like he doesn’t believe him. “You ain’t datin’?”  
Callum tries to sound blasé. “Nah, the only interest I’ve had since I bin back is Tiff.”  
“Tiff?” Jay grins. “She ain’t still chasin’ ya is she?”  
“Nah,” says Callum. “She’s moved on - thankfully. She’s seein’ Keegan now.”  
“Ah well, never mind, someone else’ll come along,” says Jay, watching him closely. “P’raps someone ya’ve got a bit more in common with.”  
Callum smiles feebly. He’s beginning to get restless, not having seen Ben yet but knowing he’s here somewhere. He tries to concentrate on a conversation with Jay as people come and go, milling around the entire house as the party progresses and the music cranks up. There’s a dance compilation playing that Callum thinks might be one of his, the bassline thumping even in the room they’re sitting in. Each time someone comes in he battles the urge to look up to see if it’s Ben. At one point he does look up just as Lola pops her head around the open door. He sees her exchange a glance with Jay before she says, “Sorry, just lookin’ for me husband.”  
“You lost him?” asks Jay. “That’s a bit careless!”  
“Thought he might be in here with you,” she says.   
Beside Callum, Jay chuckles. “Can’t think why.” Again, Callum sees a look pass between them and feels like he’s missing something.  
“Never mind,” she says. “He’s probably in a corner somewhere gettin’ pissed.”  
Callum stands up, gesturing in the direction of the kitchen. “I’m gonna go and get another drink. Either of ya want anythin’?”  
“Nah, yer alright,” says Jay, apparently for both of them.   
Instead of going straight to the kitchen, Callum does a tour of the ground floor to see if he can see Ben. He’s nowhere to be found, but Callum spends a bit of time chatting with all the lads from the team he bumps into, until nearly an hour later he sets off to find Ben again, only to be cornered by Denise. “Now here’s a man who looks like he’s on a mission,” she says. “You havin’ a good time?”  
“Yeah,” he lies. “It’s a really nice party, thanks Denise. You ain’t seen Ben, have ya?”  
“Ben Mitchell?” She puts her hand to her chin in an exaggerated ‘thinking’ pose, and he realises she’s quite drunk. “Nah. Knowin’ him though, he’s probably broodin’ in a quiet corner of the house. You tried upstairs?”  
“Nah. I’ll give it a try.”  
He heads back out to the hallway and glances into the room he’d been in before with Jay. Lola’s taken his place on the couch and the two of them are still sitting there with their heads close, deep in conversation. He hesitates, watching them for a bit longer and hoping against hope they don’t notice him. As he watches, Jay slides a hand around Lola’s waist and plants a kiss on her cheek. She giggles and shrugs him off, but it’s enough.   
If Callum’s honest with himself, he’s probably had strong suspicions for quite a while, ever since Jay was watching him and Ben in the changing room all those weeks back. He wonders if Ben knows.   
He turns and picks his way up the stairs past couples snogging and mates chatting, and ends up on a landing from which four doors lead off. The first one he tries is locked, evidently the bathroom. The second houses a large double bed that’s covered in guests’ coats upon which Keegan and Tiff are rolling around, evidently getting to know each other better. “Oi!” shouts Tiff. “Pervert!”  
“Sorry!” he calls, backing out of the room quickly.  
He tries the door of the third room more cautiously and – bingo!  
He almost misses him, thinking the room empty, but Ben’s sitting in an armchair in the corner, sipping from a bottle of beer and staring into space. Three empty bottles sit at the side of his chair. The room is quiet and cool, compared with the rest of the house.  
“There y’are!” exclaims Callum.   
At the sound of his voice, Ben looks round and throws him a tired smile. “Alright sexy? Come on in, shut the door behind ya.”  
Callum crosses the room and sits on the bed opposite him. “Y’alright? I was beginnin’ to think you hadn’t come.”  
“For you, I always come,” says Ben, but the cheeky grin that lights up his face appears a split second too late to be totally genuine.   
Callum blinks at him. “You OK?”  
“Yeah, course. Just - ” Ben makes a throwaway gesture. “Just tryin’ to square circles.” He stares at Callum for a few seconds without really seeing him, and then his face clears. “Don’t mind me. Just dissatisfied with me lot, ain’t I? ‘S new year’s eve, time for reflection an’ all that.”  
Callum wonders how he’d react if Callum told him he knew the identity of Lola’s secret lover. He wonders if it would make Ben’s life easier or harder, if it would bounce him into making a decision, taking some action. “You made any new year’s resolutions?” he asks.  
“Nah. You?”  
“Nah, just – you know – get through it, best I can.”  
Ben smiles at him sadly. “Yup, reckon that’s all we can hope for, Cal.” He takes a sip from his beer, and swallows noisily. “Yer a long way away over there,” he adds. “And I’d quite like to kiss ya.”  
“You think it’s safe?” asks Callum. “Someone might come in.”  
“One kiss won’t hurt, will it?”  
Callum shrugs, and makes his way across to him. “Stand up,” he says, beckoning. Ben does as he’s told, and instead of kissing him, Callum holds him in a long hug. Ben buries his face in his shoulder and they breathe in unison, the sounds of the party downstairs muffled apart from the booming bass of the music and the occasional shout or peal of laughter.  
Eventually, Ben pulls away with a sigh. “They should prescribe your hugs on the NHS, Cal.”  
“Yeah? Feelin’ better?”  
“Always, when you’re around.”  
He smiles up at Callum and slides a soft hand over his cheek and round the back of his neck, drawing him down so their faces are level, then starts a tentative kiss, tasting of beer. He waits for Callum to take over and take the lead. It feels like a special moment, like they’re together in their own little world and no one can ever come between them. From downstairs, they hear the countdown to midnight begin, but they carry on with what they’re doing.   
Five, four, three, two, one. The night is full of the sounds of cheering and shouting, people wishing each other a happy new year and singing Auld Lang Syne.   
Still they carry on kissing, eyes closed and bodies flush against each other. Eventually, long after the strains of Auld Lang Syne have faded away, they pull apart reluctantly. From somewhere over to the east of the Square, there’s the sound of fireworks going off.  
“Happy New Year, Ben.”  
“Happy New Year, babe.”  
They stare at each other, Callum desperate to ask Ben if he thinks things will change for them this new year. He refrains, however. There are footsteps outside the room they’re in, and they step apart quickly, but the footsteps carry on down the landing.   
“I’d better go an’ find Lo,” says Ben. “Don’t want her thinkin’ I’ve abandoned her. People’ll be talkin’.”   
“Would you wanna know?” Callum blurts out at his retreating back. “Would ya wanna know who she was seein’? If ya could?”  
Ben stops halfway across the room and turns back to him. He opens his mouth and Callum expects him to ask if Callum can tell him who it is. Then he shakes his head gently. “No. It wouldn’t make any difference.” He shrugs, and turns and walks out of the room.  
Callum follows a couple of paces behind him as he descends the stairs and re-enters the fray of the dining room. There’s a slow song playing, and couples are partnering up, slow-dancing. Around the room, those without partners are watching on, looking melancholy in that way that single people do when they’ve had too much to drink and it’s the end of the night. Callum watches as Lola detaches herself from Jay and heads over to Ben.   
“You oughtta dance with me,” she says, and after an attempt to turn her down, Ben takes her in his arms and they join the others on the impromptu dance floor.  
Callum can’t watch. He goes to the kitchen to find himself another drink, sorting through rows of empty cans until he finds one that’s not yet been opened. He props himself up against the kitchen counter and tries to look like he doesn’t want to stride across the room and rip Lola away from the man he loves.  
As he opens the can and takes a long swig from it, he looks at the other dancers instead. Keegan and Tiff are draped all over each other, moving in small circles to the music. Denise and Jack are doing much the same, although it looks like Jack’s holding Denise up as much as dancing with her. From across the room, Jay meets his eyes and raises his drink in solidarity. Callum guesses he knows how he feels. Without even willing it, his glance falls back on Ben and Lola, and Ben holds his gaze as he rocks from side to side, his arms around Lola’s shoulders as she holds his waist tight. The singer croons a song of impossible love as Ben’s eyes fix him in place. The sadness in his look is heart-breaking.  
Their eye contact breaks as the song ends, to be replaced by a more up-tempo dance track, and Ben immediately steps away from Lola. There are groans from the dancers, and Tiff and Keegan cross to sort through the CDs for something more suitable.   
“C’mon Keegan, hurry up!” shouts Jack.   
“Yeah,” slurs Denise, “Wanna smooch with ma man.”  
“Hold up,” shouts Keegan, just gotta find a good track.” He flips a CD into the player and looks for the track listing in the CD case.  
In hindsight, Callum should have expected what came next. In the days that follow, he curses himself for being such an idiot, for scoring such a spectacular own goal.  
Keegan flips through the CD booklet, and starts laughing. “Hey Callum, got yer secrets in here!” He starts to read in a sing-song voice. This is my favourite. It reminds me of you. Love you Cal, B x. Who’s B then ‘Cal’?”  
Callum is frozen to the spot as all eyes turn to him. His gaze flips across to Ben again, and then back to Keegan. There are a few murmurs in the roomful of people, some admonishing Keegan for reading out the message, but three reactions in particular stick in Callum’s mind.  
Across the room, Jay snorts and then laughs like he’ll never stop.  
In front of Callum, Tiff peers over Keegan’s shoulder at the message and then locks eyes with Callum for a second. Her eyes are full of pity and apology. She rounds on Keegan and punches his shoulder, hard. “You’re an idiot, Keegs. What the hell d’ya think you were doin’? That was private!”  
Lola comes up behind them and glances at the CD booklet as Keegan’s complaining to Tiff and rubbing his shoulder. She nods her head almost imperceptibly as she recognises the hand-writing, and then marches past Ben and across to Jay.   
He looks at her as if expecting her to share the joke. “What? You don’t think it’s funny? It’s hilarious. What a way to let everyone know!”  
As everyone starts to talk amongst themselves, asking questions, trying to find out if anyone knows what’s going on, Lola slaps Jay across his face. “Not like this,” she shouts. “It should never ‘ave bin like this!”  
In all the chaos, Ben’s been standing stock-still. Now he raises his head to look directly at Callum, and the pain and disappointment in his face is unbearable. He turns and pushes his way out of the room.  
“Ben!” Callum calls, pushing after him. He catches up to him by the front door and tries to grab his arm. “Please don’t go. We need to talk about this.”  
Ben turns back to him. “Leave me alone, Callum. Don’t ever come near me, d’ya hear?” His eyes are cold and unforgiving. He pulls his arm away from Callum’s grasp and wrenches open the door, then runs down the steps and across the Square.  
As Callum pauses in the doorway, at a loss to know what to do, Lola comes storming past him, closely followed by Jay. He makes a grab for her but she brushes him off. “Get outta my sight, Jay. You’ve done enough for one night!”  
She heads off in the same direction Ben had taken, and Callum supposes it’s only fitting, that she should be the one to go after him. She is the mother of his child, after all, someone with a claim to him. Callum’s no one.  
He sits down on the top step outside the front door, and Jay leans against the rail, rubbing at his face where Lola had slapped him. A second later someone else flops down beside Callum. It’s Tiff.  
“I’m so sorry,” she says, rubbing his arm. “Keegan’s a twat. I’ve told him so.”  
“Thanks,” says Callum. He sighs heavily. “What a start to the year!”  
“Sorry too,” says Jay. “I’m pissed. I just thought it was funny. I ain’t got nothin’ against you and Ben gettin’ together. In a way it makes life easier, don’t it? For all of us?”  
“It don’t feel that way right now,” says Callum. “I don’t even think Ben wants to be with me anymore.”  
“Nah,” says Jay, sounding chastened. “I ain’t entirely sure Lola wants me, neither.”  
“An’ I’ve just dumped Keegan,” says Tiff. “What a bunch we are.”  
“Well I’ll tell ya one thing,” says Jay. “This year can only get better, surely?”  
Callum wishes he could believe him. As the three of them sit there in silence while the party begins to break up back in the house, he’s got a feeling it’s going to get worse before it gets better. If it ever does.

TEN   
The changing room falls silent as he opens the door and crosses to his peg to start getting changed. He looks around him, tentative. Kush gives him a sickly half-smile and Jay raises a lethargic hand in greeting. Others avert their eyes, suddenly finding the floor incredibly interesting, or focus on tying up their boots.  
“Cal, alright mate?” asks Jack with transparently over-done enthusiasm.  
“Uh, yeah,” he mutters.  
Martin comes in from the toilets. He takes a look around, clearly wondering why everyone’s gone quiet, and then spots Callum. He crosses to clap him on the arm. “Alright, Cal? You bin scaring the horses again?”  
He grins, and Callum’s shoulders drop a little as his comment relieves some of the tension. “Seems that way,” he says, shaping his own features into a smile, something that hasn’t come naturally in the last few days.   
“Gonna havta stop stealin’ the show every time ya go out in public, ain’t ya? Jack’s still sore ya took all the attention away from them lovely flower arrangements he put together for his party.” Martin winks at him.  
“Alright, alright,” says Jack. “Nothin’ to see here. Everybody try and pick yer jaws up off the ground. “Right, Leyton today.”  
As he starts his team talk, Martin nudges Callum. “You seen Ben since?”  
Callum shakes his head. It’s been five days now, and he’s given up trying to call Ben. He’s even given up texting him after eleven messages and four calls went ignored. He supposes this is it. It really is over. He’d hoped Ben would be here today so he could at least try and get some time alone with him, but if he’s planning on playing today, he’s cutting it fine.  
“Steady at the back today,” says Jack, “they’re slow, so every time the ball comes towards our half, you all go straight at the back and we’ll catch ‘em off-side.”  
There’s a snigger from Keegan and he fixes Callum with a grin. “That’s gonna be easier for some than others, ain’t it?”  
“Don’t be a twat, Keegan,” says Jack, as a few of the other lads make disapproving noises. “Any more of that sort of nonsense on the pitch and I’ll pull ya off.”  
Keegan sniggers harder, and a few of the lads join in.   
“Better quit while yer ahead Jack, I reckon,” says Kush. As they all get up and start to make their way out onto the pitch, he finds Callum. “Nobody’s got a problem with ya, Cal. Everyone’s just a bit awkward. They don’t know what to say to ya.”  
“I ain’t dyin’, Kush!” exclaims Callum. “I’m the same person I was the last time we played a match.”  
“I know, I know!” Kush claps him on the back. “Just give ‘em a bit of time, things’ll soon be back to normal.”  
Callum wishes he shared his optimism. He’d almost decided not to turn up today, imagining just this kind of awkwardness. It wouldn’t be so bad if he was fully out and proud, but he’s still getting to grips with this himself, so he’s struggling to deal with people making jokes at his expense. He thinks back to some of the things he and Ben had got up to in bed, and while they’d felt amazing at the time, he can’t help but see them through the eyes of his team-mates now, and he feels a creeping sense of shame.  
He tries to shrug it off and jogs to the far side of the pitch to start some stretching exercises on his own, until Mitch, Tubbs, Jay, Kush and Martin join him.   
It’s only a couple of minutes before kick-off, when they’re all gathered round Jack for one final pep-talk, that Callum’s heart stops for a split-second before juddering into life again in his chest.  
He’s here.  
Ben is sprinting across the park towards the pitch. Jack turns as he hears him getting closer, and makes a show of looking at his watch. “Finally, thought I was gonna have to switch the team up again.”  
Ben holds up a hand in apology, too out of breath to say anything, and all eyes swerve to Callum, gauging his reaction, and then back to Ben again. When he’s captured his breath, he stretches out his arms, much as he does when he invites praise for scoring a goal, and says, “Have a good look then, lads. Got somethin’ to say?”  
“Nobody’s got anythin’ to say,” says Jack, with a warning look at the entire squad. “C’mon, get in positions, and remember what I said – play the off-side.”  
Ben doesn’t even cast a glance at Callum as he jogs off to his starting position, and Callum walks slowly over to stand in front of their goal, his legs shaky and his brain fogged.  
It’s an easy start. Leyton’s attackers are indeed slow, and their defenders aren’t much better. Within twenty minutes Ben’s had four shots on goal. None have hit the target yet, but it’s only a matter of time. The entire team are playing well up the field, pushing into Leyton’s half almost non-stop, and eventually Ben gets a quick ball to his feet right on the penalty spot, turns, and blasts it into the bottom left-hand corner of the net. He performs his usual celebration, holding out his arms to encourage praise from all corners of the field, and the entire team clap or shout at him. Seems it doesn’t matter so much who you sleep with if you can score goals like that.   
They’re all turning to jog back to position when it happens. Callum’s not entirely sure how it kicks off, but he hears shouting of a different nature, and the ref blowing the whistle, and when he turns back, Keegan is on the ground holding his jaw; Jay and Ben are brawling, and Kush has dashed over to try and break it up. Callum races back to help, and grabs Ben from behind.  
He just about manages to hold him, but Ben’s fighting against him and yelling down at Keegan. “You ever so much as speak to me again, I’ll punch yer face in, alright?”  
“Ben, cool it! Calm down,” says Callum. He places an arm around Ben’s chest from behind and for a second, he feels Ben surrender to his grasp, before he wrenches himself away with an elbow to Callum’s stomach.  
The ref is still blowing his whistle at regular intervals as order is gradually restored. “Number seven, come ‘ere.”   
Ben glares at everyone around him, and trudges slowly over to speak with the ref.   
“You lot’re bleedin’ nutters,” says the Leyton defender standing next to him. “Bleedin’ animals, fightin’ amongst yerselves.”  
Callum can’t disagree. He stares over at Ben in dismay.  
The ref calls over Jay and Keegan, who’s just getting back on his feet, and confers with them both before a decision is made. He waves them both away and then holds up the red card to Ben, who throws up his arms and strides off the pitch without another glance at his team-mates.  
Callum heads slowly back to his position and watches as Ben stops in front of a stony-faced Jack. They exchange a few words before Ben walks away, making his way back to the changing rooms.  
That’s it for Callum. His concentration is shot, and early in the second half Jack substitutes him.   
“I get that this is all awkward,” he says as Callum joins him on the touchline, pulling on a spare tracksuit to keep warm. “But ya can’t let it affect the football, Cal. You and Ben, whatever dramas yer havin’, you gotta keep it off the pitch. It’s affecting the whole team.”  
“I know, Jack,” says Callum, embarrassed and wishing they didn’t even have to talk about this. “I’m doin’ me best, but Ben…”  
“What’s goin’ on for him?”  
Callum shrugs. “No idea. He won’t talk to me.”  
Jack turns to look at him closely. “He’s gonna take a few weeks off, just til he gets his head together. You need to do that too?”  
“Nah, course not.” Callum digs at the grass with his toe, avoiding Jack’s gaze. “I’ll be fine, Jack. ‘S probably better that Ben ain’t around right now.”  
He chances a look up at Jack, who looks as if he’s about to say more, but he looks away and then just utters a quiet, “Yeah.”  
After such a promising start to the match, they come away with just the one-nil win. This should have been a game they could use to bump up their goal difference, and Jack is stony-faced and terse in the changing rooms afterwards. Ben is nowhere to be seen, having changed and left as soon as he got sent off. His kit is dumped in a heap on one of the benches in the corner.  
“So,” says Jay, as he gets changed beside Callum. “Yer boyfriend’s a psycho.”  
Callum’s just towelling off his chest. He’s later getting changed than the others because he’d waited for them all to finish in the showers before he went in. “I ain’t entirely sure he’s me boyfriend anymore. What happened back there, anyway?”  
Jay shakes his head. “Keeg said somethin’ stupid, Ben lunged at him, and then when I went to try an’ break it up he had a go at me too. Called me a traitor.” He huffs a laugh. “Can you believe it?”  
“What a mess,” sighs Callum. “You spoke to Lola since new year’s?”  
“Coupla times, but I ain’t her favourite person right now. They’re sortin’ stuff out at the moment. Think they’re gonna divorce.”  
Callum sinks down onto the bench. “Really? Shit!”  
“C’mon, it had to happen eventually, an’ it’s the best thing for everyone ain’t it?” asks Jay. “You an’ Ben can make a go of things, and so can me an’ Lo. If she ever starts talkin’ to me civil again.”  
“I ain’t sure there’s anythin’ to make a go of,” says Callum. “I never meant to - ”  
“This is all on them two,” says Jay, in a tone of voice that won’t entertain dissent. “They’re the ones with the fucked-up relationship. We’re just the poor suckers who got drawn into it, so don’t start feelin’ sorry for ‘em.”  
“’S’pose so,” says Callum, “I hate that he’s goin’ through this an’ he won’t let me help him, be there for ‘im.”  
“He’s a big boy, Cal, he’ll cope.”  
“He’s terrified he’s gonna lose Lexi!”  
Jay shakes his head. “He won’t lose her. I mean, yeah, Lo was talkin’ about blockin’ access at one point, but that’s cos she weren’t thinkin’ straight. We had a talk and I made her see sense. I don’t wanna stand in the way of Ben seein’ Lex, course I don’t.” He claps Callum on the arm. “It’ll all sort itself out. Just gotta keep the faith, Cal.”  
“Is that what you’re doin’?”  
Jay nods grimly. “Gotta, ain’t I? Otherwise this has all bin for nothin’.”  
“How long? For you?”  
Jay rolls his eyes. “Too long. Nearly three years.”  
“Blimey!” Callum buries his face in his towel and takes a few deep breaths, as Jack starts to talk.  
“Right lads, I don’t mind tellin’ ya I was ashamed of ya all out there today. I ain’t just talking about the brawlin’ amongst yerselves. That was bad enough, but comin’ away from this fixture with one measly goal? That’s just embarrassin’! We shoulda bin all over them today. I expected ya to come away with at least five. At least!”  
“It ain’t our fault Jack,” pipes up Keegan. “We’re slap bang in the middle of a bleedin’ freakshow right now.”  
Callum can feel the colour rise on his cheeks as Jack turns to him. “And you’ve just earnt yerself a three-match ban, Keegan.”  
Keegan throws his hands up in the air and starts muttering under his breath. There is silence from every part of the room.  
“I warned ya, Keegan,” Jack continues. “I will not have those attitudes in this team, ya hear? You wanna be a twat, you go and find somewhere else to play, alright?”  
“Right, I will,” snaps Keegan. “And good luck findin’ another midfielder like me!” He stands up and begins shoving his belongings into his hold-all.  
“Wait, Jack!” says Callum, appalled. “I don’t wanna cause any trouble. Maybe I should just leave - ”  
“You ain’t goin’ nowhere, Cal. Keegan, you’ve got a choice. You either keep yer views to yerself, or you walk. Entirely up to you.”  
“That ain’t fair!” Keegan gestures at Callum. “He’s the one causin’ the problem. Him and his batty boy mate, an’ I have to leave? Who agrees that Callum should be the one to go?”  
He looks around the room, waiting for exclamations of support. Most of the lads keep their eyes on the floor. Kush shrugs apologetically at him, and Jay says, “Jack’s right, Keeg. Yer bein’ a twat.”  
“Yeah,” chips in Martin. “No one has to leave if we can all just get along and cut out the stupid remarks.”  
“So I’m just supposed to say nothin’?” asks Keegan. “Him and his ‘boyfriend’ are drivin’ a wedge through this team an’ I’m just supposed to sit and watch it happen?”  
“No one’s drivin’ a wedge through anythin’,” says Martin in a calm voice.   
“An’ if it was anyone, it’d be you,” adds Jay. “You’re the reason Ben got sent off today.”  
“OK, lads, lads!” Jack stands in the middle of the room, effectively cutting off the line of sight between Keegan and Jay before everything gets out of hand. “We all need to take a few deep breaths. Keegan, we’ll have a chat after yer ban. Yer welcome to come back, but you gotta cut the clever comments.”   
Keegan throws himself back down on the bench and folds his arms, still muttering quietly to himself. He glares across at Callum and Callum tries not to care.

He doesn’t stay behind for drinks after the match. He just needs to be on his own. The exchange with Jay had cheered him slightly, in the respect that Ben probably wouldn’t lose Lexi, but as far as his relationship with Ben is concerned, if he could call it that, he’s not so optimistic. He’s seen what Ben does when he’s feeling cornered or uncomfortable. He withdraws into himself and fights the world. Callum can’t help feeling he’s become the enemy now, as far as Ben sees it.  
When he gets off the bus at the Square he crosses into the garden and sits on the bench, not wanting to go home just yet. The Square is quiet, most people at home getting ready for work or school the next day. Lights are on in all the houses around the Square but there’s no traffic, and the Vic is quiet too. He huddles into his jacket and stares into space. It feels worse to have had what he experienced with Ben and then have it snatched away so abruptly. He misses him. Ben hadn’t so much looked in his direction at football, and it feels like he’s just been deleted from his life. If they’re over, Callum wishes he could do the same with Ben. Forget he’d ever been in his life. Erase all the times they’d spent in bed or making out in secret, hidden away so no one would guess about them. As he sits there, Callum makes a decision. His next relationship, whoever it’s with, is not going to be played out in the shadows. He’s going to be totally out, and if people have a problem with that, if the likes of Keegan have a problem with that, then that’s just what it is: their problem. Callum’s not going to cower and hide for anyone.  
He becomes aware of footsteps crossing the Square, and then a voice.  
“Oh! It’s… Callum, ain’t it?”  
He looks up. Ben’s mother is hesitating at the entrance to the garden. He nods, and she takes that as permission to come and sit beside him on the bench. She lets out a sigh as she does. “Oof, bin on me feet all day in that bleedin’ caff. Nice to sit down for a few seconds. You alright, darlin’?”  
He shoots her a weak smile. “Bin better.”  
She watches him closely. “Is this because of that idiot son of mine?”  
The resignation in her tone makes him laugh, in spite of himself. “Yeah. If yer talkin’ about the one I’m thinkin’ of.”  
“Well, I’ve got two sons, and they’re both idiots in their own ways, but I mean Ben, though.” She huddles a little closer. “He’s got himself in a right mess, ain’t he? I mean, marryin’ Lo even though he knew he was…” She sighs. “I suppose I should be proud of ‘im for doin’ the right thing at the time. Seems like he’s messed up both their lives though.” After a second’s reflection she nudges him with her elbow. “And yours, by the looks of things.”  
“I wouldn’t say he’s messed it up,” says Callum, anxious to avoid her pity. “Maybe pushed it off course though. For a bit, at least. I ‘spect I’ll get over it.”  
“Don’t you give up on ‘im,” she orders. “He’s an idiot, yeah, and he don’t know what he wants half the time, but I do know for a few weeks before Christmas he was the happiest I’d seen ‘im for a long time. And I’m guessin’ that was down to you.” She nudges him again. “So you hang on in there, and when he’s sorted everythin’ out with Lola he’ll be back. I’m sure of it.”  
She sees that he looks unconvinced, and changes the subject. “How d’ya get on today?”  
“Oh! Won, one-nil.”  
“Good! That’s good, ain’t it?”  
“Not really, we shoulda thrashed ‘em. Ben, uh… Ben got sent off.”  
Her face drops. “Fightin’?”  
“Yeah.”  
She rolls her eyes. “He gets that from his father’s side. Always thinks he can sort a problem out with his fists. Well, I told ya he was an idiot.” She stands up and prepares to take her leave. “Just you remember what I said though. Hang on in there. I think you could be good for ‘im, Callum.” She chuckles. “This time last week I ‘ad no idea I might be welcomin’ two new son-in-laws into the family. How times change, eh?”  
Callum smiles up at her and watches as she heads across the Square to the family home. The house where even now, Ben might be with Lola and Lexi, working out how their future’s going to look. Despite what his mother might think, Callum’s doubtful that Ben will be making his way back to him. He’s cut him out of his life. He can tell the signs. And why wouldn’t he? Now everyone knows about him, he can have his pick of any man he wants.  
Come to think of it, so can Callum. 

ELEVEN  
The fortunes of the team seem to rise in inverse proportion to Callum’s happiness. As spring arrives and they stop having to play in gloves, and the cold winter air is no longer harsh in their throats as they pound up and down the pitch, and as more spectators turn out to watch their games with the advent of the milder weather, they slowly climb the table, until three weeks before the end of season they’re sitting third, with a game against East Ham, the team in second place, coming up today. Jack can barely contain his excitement, and it’s infectious. The entire team thinks they can probably finish second. They’re riding high on confidence and a decent string of results. Keegan returned earlier in the year after his ban, and had thrown a grudging apology across the changing room at Callum. Callum had accepted it eagerly. They’re never going to be best mates, but he hates bad feeling.   
Ben’s coming back too. Today’s going to be his first match in eight weeks. He’d ended up taking nearly two months off, and Callum had only had word of him from Jay. It seems the divorce is proceeding at pace, and Lola’s making plans to move out of Ben’s home and into somewhere with Jay. Callum’s happy for them even as his own heart feels empty and hollow. He misses him almost as much as he’d missed Chris.  
“Don’t forget, get yer tickets for end of season awards night,” says Jack before his team talk. “Usual form, dinner and dancin’. Nineteenth of March. Callum? You got yours?”  
“Nah, not yet.”   
“Twenty five quid all in. Bring a guest if ya want.”  
The door opens and Ben is suddenly there, as if to remind Callum of everything he can’t have.  
“ ‘Ere he is! Star striker!” exclaims Mitch. “Couldn’ta picked a better day to come back, mate.”  
“Afternoon boys,” says Ben, his usual swagger firmly back in place. “Come to save the day, ain’t I?”  
“Yeah, cos without ya we’ve only managed third so far,” says Martin with a roll of his eyes. Ben grins across at him. He seems lighter, like a load’s been lifted. He throws a faint smile in Callum’s direction, but then ignores him for the rest of the time.   
It’s a hard match. There’s a reason why their opponents are sitting second in the table, and they’re clearly not going to relinquish that position without a fight. By half-time, they’re one goal apiece, with everything to play for. Callum had suffered a slight knock after he came out of a tackle near the goalmouth, for which the attacker had apologised profusely. Callum decided he’d been imagining the glint in his eye when he held out a hand to help him up. In the second half, though, the same player hangs around in front of goal, waiting to run on any balls his team passes to him, and is never more than about five feet away from Callum. Despite the close contest, most of the play is down the other end, where Ben’s fighting to find a way through to score a couple more.  
“You weren’t playin’ for this team last year, was ya?” asks the attacker when they’re both in space two thirds of the way up the field.  
“Me? No,” says Callum, keeping a close eye on play. “Only joined this year.”  
“Yeah, I thought I’da remembered ya,” says the other bloke, looking him up and down. He’s tall and blond. Not at all like Ben. Callum feels a blush rising on his cheeks as the bloke extends a hand. “Matthew.”  
“Callum,” says Callum, shaking his hand and feeling vaguely panicky that the bloke might be trying to chat him up.  
“Nice to meet ya, Callum. You goin’ in the clubhouse after?”  
“Yeah, ‘spect so.”  
“Right. I’ll buy ya a pint if ya want.”  
Callum smiles weakly at him, before his attention is taken up with a stray ball that’s heading towards them both. He rushes onto it, clearing it before Matthew can get to it.  
By the eighty six minute mark, it’s still one-all, and play is getting scrappy. Callum boots a long ball up towards Ben, and he picks it up just outside the penalty box. Two defenders immediately come tearing out to block him, and he swerves one before pulling it inside and trying to make a bit of space. There’s a scramble three yards out. The goalie and the other defender each leave it for the other in the most shocking example of defending Callum’s ever seen, and Ben manages a shot that rebounds off the goalie’s shoulder as he scrambles to recover it. It drops to the ground behind him and bounces gently over the goal-line as quietly as a ball’s ever crept into a goal. In contrast, the roar that resounds around the ground is anything but.   
“You beauty!” yells Jack. “Well done lads. Ben, great work! Well done my son! Lovely pass, Callum!”  
“Shit!” says Matthew from beside Callum. “Our goalie won’t be gettin’ man of the match.”  
Callum’s grinning from ear to ear at the sight of Ben, arms wide in his customary pose. He couldn’t have asked for a better return to the team. “He’s pretty special, that striker of ours,” he comments.  
The team holds on through stoppage time, and they come away scrappy but worthy winners. Jack is beaming, slapping them all on the back time and time again. Anyone watching from the outside would have thought they’d already won the league. They know they can’t finish top, but as long as they don’t lose either of their last two matches, they’ll have second place in the bag.  
There’s an air of celebration in the clubhouse afterwards, even though the season’s not quite over. Callum’s just ordering himself a pint and wondering what kind of reception he’d get if he decided to seek out Ben, when Matthew arrives at his side and sticks out a tenner to the barman. “I’ll buy that, and can you get me the same?”  
“Nah, it’s OK,” says Callum. “Honestly.”  
Matthew lays a hand on his arm. “I insist. I won’t take no for an answer.”  
“OK,” says Callum shyly. “Thanks.”  
“Despite the fact ya beat us.”  
“Yeah, sorry ‘bout that,” says Callum.  
“No you ain’t,” says Matthew, squeezing his arm.  
Callum grins. “Nah, I ain’t.” He turns to see Ben just coming into the clubhouse. Ben spots him at the same moment. Callum sees his face light up before he glances over to Matthew and evidently cottons on to what’s happening. The shutters come down on his expression again, and he turns away to talk to Martin.  
When Callum manages to give Matthew the slip ten minutes later, Ben’s nowhere to be seen.  
“Seen Ben?” he asks Martin.  
“He left. Said he had to get back. Packin’ or somethin’.”  
“Packin’?”  
“Yeah, I think he’s movin’ out of his mum’s. All change over there, eh?”  
“Sounds like it,” says Callum, reflecting that he would probably be the last to know.   
So, it’s as he thought. Ben doesn’t want anything more to do with him. He sees the other team gathering up their bags, starting to make a move and hurries back over to Matthew, tapping him on the shoulder as he’s standing listening to their striker recount the tale of the goal he’d scored earlier.   
“Hey!” says Matthew.  
“Listen,” says Callum, feeling like an idiot. “D’ya wanna take me number? Get together for another drink sometime?”  
Matthew grins widely. “I thought you wasn’t interested. Course I’ll take yer number. Give us yer phone.” He taps in his number and lets it ring a couple of times, then hands it back to Callum, fishing out his own phone to save the caller number. “Well, we mighta lost today but it looks like I scored.”  
“You mighta,” agrees Callum, feeling terribly forward.   
“God, that was lame!” exclaims Matthew. “I promise I won’t be so cheesy if ya hit me up for a drink. Call me, right? Gotta go but – you know – nice to meet ya Callum.”  
“You too.” Callum leans in for, what? a kiss? a hug? as Matthew raises a hand in farewell and walks off with his teammates, leaving Callum feeling like an idiot. It’s not helped by Martin grinning at him when he turns round.  
“Smooth, Cal.”  
Callum shakes his head in despair. “I ain’t no good at this. I just want - ” He bites off what he was about to say, that he just wants Ben.  
It seems that Martin guesses anyway. He claps him on the arm. “Give him a bit of time. I betcha he’ll come round eventually.”  
“See, everyone keeps sayin’ that,” says Callum. “I ain’t so sure.”  
“Well, I mighta got the wrong end of the stick, but the mood he was in when he left, I think ya mighta given him somethin’ to think about, flirtin’ with the enemy like that.”  
Callum stares at Martin in horror. “D’ya think he thought I was tryin’ to make him jealous? Cos that ain’t me style.”  
Martin raises his hands and takes a step backwards. “No idea mate. Also no idea how I suddenly became agony aunt to Walford’s gay community.”  
Callum is immediately contrite. “Yeah, sorry, you don’t need to hear this, do ya?”  
“Listen, I don’t mind, honest. But dontcha think yer talkin’ to the wrong bloke here?” Martin waits for him to agree, and when he’s met with a blank face from Callum he rolls his eyes. “Ya need to talk to Ben. And he needs to talk to you.” He chuckles. “Honestly, the pair of ya need yer head’s bangin’ together, I swear.”  
Callum sighs and goes to sit at a table, where he pulls out his phone and texts in a quick message. Nice to see you today. Maybe we could get together sometime?  
He stays on for another pint and is back at home before the reply comes. You looked like you was busy. Perhaps we both need to move on.  
Callum stares at the message for a long time before throwing his phone on the bed with a sigh. So that’s it. As he suspected. Ben’s moved on, and he thinks that Callum should do the same. There’s nothing for it, Callum should do as Ben expects and text Matthew. He picks up his phone again and his fingers hover over the keypad.   
He starts typing out a message, but then thinks better of it and throws the phone back down on the bed.

There’s a cloud over his head. It follows him around all week and is still there on the Sunday when they play their penultimate match of the season. It’s an easy win against a team that are only two from the bottom of the table, and Callum hardly even breaks into a trot for most of the match. He should be celebrating that they’re one step away from their best-ever placing, like the rest of the team, but he just can’t muster up the enthusiasm.  
Ben is still keeping his distance from him. Callum catches him out a couple of times in the bar afterwards, staring over at him, but as soon as Ben sees that he’s spotted him he turns away. He’s back to being the life and soul of the team again, in that way that Callum knows is forced and insincere. No one else seems to notice though.  
“Is he OK?” he asks Jay quietly, when they’re both at the bar waiting to be served. Jay glances at him and then looks away quickly. He looks almost embarrassed.  
“What?” asks Callum.  
“He, uh… he’s bein’ a bit weird,” says Jay. He doesn’t look as if he wants to say any more.  
“Weird how?”  
“He’s moved into the flat above his mum’s caff,” says Jay, in a transparent attempt to change the subject. “Did he tell ya?”  
“He ain’t spoken to me since new year’s, Jay. How’s he bein’ weird?”  
Jay hands over a five pound note to the barman and takes a sip of his pint while he waits for his change.   
Callum stands patiently, until Jay’s pocketed his change. “You gonna tell me?”  
“OK, but don’t shoot the messenger, right?” Jay looks like he’d rather be anywhere but with Callum right now. “He’s bin goin’ out every night.”  
When Callum looks none the wiser, he inclines his head at him, as if willing him to understand without him having to spell it out. “To bars. Goin’ home with men.”  
Callum feels like he’s been punched. He hears his own voice, sounding like it’s coming from a long way away. “He’s bin sleepin’ with other men?”  
“Yeah.” Jay gives him a pitying look. “Sorry Cal. I didn’t wantcha to find out - ”  
“Don’t matter, does it?” asks Callum, recovering his composure quickly and letting out a laugh that sounds humourless even to himself. “He’s a free agent. He’s moved on.” He shrugs miserably. “Looks like I’ll have to do the same.”  
“He’s bein’ a twat, is what he’s doin’,” says Jay. “I still don’t think you should give up on him, mate.”  
“How’re you and Lola doin’, anyway?” asks Callum, anxious to change the subject.  
“Yeah, great. It’s so good not to have to creep around anymore. And Lexi’s got used to us bein’ together really quick. She - ” Jay suddenly stops talking, as if he’s realised waxing lyrical about his new domestic set-up might be just a little insensitive given Callum’s situation. He glances across to Ben and back to Callum again. “I reckon he still likes ya, honest I do.”  
They’re saved from any more awkward chat about relationships by Jack doing the rounds, still trying to sell tickets to the end of season bash. He finally convinces Callum to buy one, and Callum hands his money over trying hard not to feel miserable about the fact that he doesn’t have a ‘plus one’ to take.  
As expected, they win their last match of the season easily, three-nil, and finish runners-up. It’s the best ever showing in all the team’s history, and Jack’s over the moon. The celebrations in the clubhouse are long and hard afterwards.   
Callum’s on his sixth pint, still not sure if he’s celebrating or drowning his sorrows, when he staggers to the toilets. It’s quiet and cool in there, and he lingers a while, running cold water on his hands and splashing it on his face. The door opens and in the mirror he sees Ben. The younger man hesitates in the doorway when he spots Callum, and makes to retreat.  
“Wait!” calls Callum, turning to face him. “I ain’t seen ya in ages. Not properly. Can we talk?”  
Ben pushes the door open a sliver. “What about?”  
“Just catch up,” says Callum, shrugging and dripping water on the floor. “Tell me how ya bin. I heard ya moved out yer mum’s place.”  
Ben has still not come any further into the room. He shakes his head sadly. “I… can’t do this.”  
Callum frowns, and in the time it takes him to formulate a reply, Ben’s gone. The door falls closed behind him. By the time he goes back out to the bar again, Ben’s nowhere to be seen. Callum sighs heavily. It’s like trying to develop a relationship with fog, or the Scarlet Pimpernel. He has no idea what Ben meant when he said he couldn’t do this. All he does know is that Ben’s definitely moved on, and why wouldn’t he? He’s young, good-looking. Just coming out. Why would he want to be tied down to the first bloke who ever showed an interest in him? There’s a whole gay world out there, just waiting for him to discover it. Maybe Ben finds that exciting. He’s not like Callum. Callum just finds it terrifying.  
It half-occurs to Callum that he could drop in at the car lot to see Ben. It would be difficult for the younger man to give him the slip there, but something tells Callum the encounter would just be awkward. Ben would see him as a sad hanger-on who doesn’t know when to call it quits. He’d probably employ some of that sarcasm that seems to come so easily to him with everyone else.   
Or pity. Callum can’t decide which would be worse.

A week later, he gets ready for the end of season awards evening with a heavy heart. It’s at times like these that he’s reminded just how alone he is in the world. On the other hand, he wonders how the rest of the lads would react if he brought a date along. He doesn’t want to embarrass anyone or cause any awkwardness, there’s been enough of that already this season, and he likes this bunch of lads. He’d like to continue playing with the team. No, it’s best that he goes alone, despite the afternoon he’d spent at Coker’s earlier in the week debating whether he should invite Matthew as his plus one. He hasn’t heard anything from the bloke though. He guesses he was waiting for Callum to make the first move. Or he just goes around handing out his number to anyone who looks half-interested.  
He hangs around the bedsit once he’s changed, reluctant to leave its safety, but eventually realising he can’t get out of the evening despite running through a list of excuses he could text to Jack, weighing up the believability of each one before realising with a sigh that he’s said he’s going to be there and so he’s going to have to turn up. Callum is strong on duty.  
The venue for the evening is a function room out towards East Ham beside the canal. The evenings are already getting a little bit lighter, and Callum crosses the car park to peer down at the water before going into the building, enjoying the sound of the birds singing as dusk falls. There’s a small seating area overlooking the canal, and Callum lingers for a while, staring down into the water and psyching himself up for the evening. He can hear the sound of chatter and laughter every time someone opens the door to the venue, and eventually, reluctantly, realises most people are probably already in there. He casts a last look along the canal and forces himself to go in.  
The function room is done up like a ballroom, with circular tables covered in starched white table cloths dotted around a central dance floor, and, like Callum, all the lads are done up in their finest suit jackets and best jeans. Their partners are all dressed up to the nines, in party dresses and some looking as if they’ve had hair and make-up done especially for the occasion. A PA system is set up next to the DJ’s console, for when Jack starts running through the awards, and next to it is a table covered in shining trophies and cups, ready to be dished out to the deserving few. Gazing around the room, Callum spies Ben sitting on a table next to Jay and Lola. Seems they’re keeping everything amicable, but it only serves to make him feel even more the outsider. He looks around for a spare seat, and sees Kush beckoning to him from the other side of the dance floor.   
“Alright mate? Thought you wasn’t comin’,” says Kush when he slides into the space beside him. “This is me missus, Kat.”  
Callum reaches past Kush to shake hands with a buxom woman dressed entirely in leopard-print, not at all the sort of woman he would have thought Kush would go for. He looks around the table and raises a hand in greeting at Martin.   
“Alright, Cal. This is Stace, me missus.”  
She waves at him. “Evenin’ Cal. I can’t hear a word anyone’s sayin’, it’s too noisy in here, but I’ll come and give ya the third degree later.”  
He smiles, glad that they’re making him feel welcome and helping to diffuse some of the awkwardness he’s feeling. Then his smile fades from his face as he realises the other couple on his table are Keegan and Tiff.  
“You two back on then?” he asks. Keegan gives him an apologetic half-smile as Tiff nudges him. “Yeah,” she says. “I’ve told ‘im I’ll go out with ‘im as long as he’s not a twat.”  
“Shouldn’t last long then, should it?” teases Kush, exchanging a grin with Martin.  
“Ha ha, very funny,” says Keegan.  
“We’re all gonna have a good time tonight, ain’t we?” asks Martin. “No nonsense. We’re just gonna let our hair down after a bleedin’ good season.”  
“I’ll drink to that,” says Kat even though, to Callum’s knowledge, she’s not stepped foot inside the football park all year.  
They’re served with a slap-up meal and the wine is flowing, not to mention the beer the lads fetch from the bar in a steady procession. From time to time Callum cranes his neck to try and see Ben. He’s got his head down, eating, and doesn’t seem to be saying very much to anyone around him.   
Finally, when they’re all stuffed and the plates have been cleared away, the PA system squeals into life, to winces and grimaces from everyone around the room.  
“Right, one two, one two, is this thing workin’?” asks Jack into the microphone.  
“Yes!” everyone shouts back.  
“OK,” Jack refers to a sheet of paper he’s holding in his hand and announces in a loud voice, “Welcome everyone to the 2019 Walford Rovers end of season awards ceremony.”  
Beside Callum, Kush sniggers. “He’s in his element here. Think this is the only reason he manages the team, so’s he can be the big showman at the end of the season.”  
“Don’t think he needs the mic, does he?” adds Kat.  
“We’ve had a tremendous season,” continues Jack, to roars of agreement from around the room. He tries to quieten everyone down again by holding out his hands.  
“It’s bin our most successful season ever,” he continues when he can make himself heard, “and that’s all down to your hard work and commitment. You may not have listened to me advice to cut down on the beer, but ya certainly gave it 120% this year. So, without further ado, it gives me great pleasure to announce the awards for this year.”  
Martin and Kush exchange amused looks, clearly used to Jack’s showmanship.   
“Get on with it then!” shouts someone from the back of the room, causing guffaws from the others. Callum can’t be sure but he thinks it might have been Ben.  
“Right, first up,” says Jack, “is the award for best newcomer.” Everyone on Callum’s table turns to look at him, and he blushes and dips his head. He hadn’t been expecting an award. He’s still not sure it’ll be him. “We’ve suffered a bit in recent years with a weakness in defence. We’ve got some great players back there, but there was just somethin’ missin’, and I truly believe the very worthy winner of this award is the missing piece that’s finally turned ‘em into a great defending machine. He’s helped our goal difference no end by keepin’ out a load that we wouldn’t’ve bin able to stop in previous years, and so I’m very pleased to announce that the award for best newcomer this year goes to… Callum Highway.”  
Callum rises from his seat to cheers and clapping from the entire room. Even Keegan’s clapping, and Callum hadn’t particularly noticed Tiff elbowing him into action beforehand. Callum hates being the centre of attention, so he crosses to take the award from Jack, shakes his hand, and then heads back to his seat with his head down, ignoring the cries of ‘Speech! Speech!’. In a concession to the cries he raises the award above his head and smiles around the room, noting as he does that Ben’s clapping and looking pleased as punch for him. As he sits down the others on his table smile and whisper their congratulations. He shakes his head modestly. “I think I was the only newcomer this year, weren’t I?”  
“Could still ‘ave come away without an award if you was shit!” points out Kat, cackling loudly at her own comment.   
The awards ceremony meanders on. Seems there’s an award for just about anything. Best goal, greatest commitment to the club, highest number of games played in, best youngster, goal-scorer of the year, longest-serving player, the list goes on. Ben, of course, wins the award for goal-scorer of the year, and follows up his collection of the award by striking his normal goal-scoring pose, arms aloft as everyone cheers and jeers at him. He seems happier tonight, although Callum can’t work out if that’s just the booze doing its job.  
Finally, the awards have all been dished out, Jack is prised away from the microphone, and the disco starts up. Kat is immediately up on the dance floor, dragging Kush behind her, and everyone starts milling around, swapping tables and chatting to the people they hadn’t yet caught up with. Callum spends time chatting to most of the rest of the team, and a good half hour talking to Stacey, Martin’s other half, but he avoids Ben’s table. So, he’s a coward. It’s not something that’s news to him. Eventually, he sits back on his own and watches the proceedings for a while. Jay and Lola are up dancing now, and they look so loved up, Callum’s heart breaks a little, watching them. He glances over to the table they’ve vacated. Ben is sitting alone, hunched over a pint and looking a little like Callum feels right now.   
Callum taps his fingers on the table to the song that’s playing, and waits for a verse and another chorus before taking his courage in his hands and crossing over to speak to Ben.   
“D’ya mind if I sit down?” he asks, as he reaches Ben’s table. The younger man is toying with the trophy he’d received, and he looks up at him with a start, as if he hadn’t realised Callum was there. He shrugs wordlessly.  
“Havin’ a good night?” asks Callum.  
“Yeah, ‘s OK,” answers Ben. “Bin to so many, they all merge into one.” He looks round at Callum and shrugs again.  
“I wondered if we could have a talk,” says Callum, raising his voice to make himself heard.  
Ben frowns. “What?”  
“Thought we could have a talk!” says Callum, louder, just as the DJ chooses that very moment to change the track, causing the dancers to cheer and sing along raucously to the new song.  
Ben is shaking his head. “I can’t hear ya.”  
Callum curses to himself. He stands up, and beckons to Ben to do the same. The younger man hesitates, and looks at him suspiciously, before doing as he’s told. Callum leads the way out of the room and further, on out to the car park where he crosses to the seating area which is in total darkness now, apart from a string of fairy lights suspended around it. He perches on one of the tables, feet on the bench, and waits as Ben, a few steps behind him, does the same.  
“Couldn’t hear meself think in there,” says Callum.  
Ben cracks a faint smile in answer, his face only just visible in the lights. Now that they’re alone together again, Callum longs to reach out and touch him. He sits on his hands instead, and they look out over the dark water in front of them.  
“What did ya want, Callum?” asks Ben eventually.  
“Just to see how ya are,” says Callum, shrugging. “I ain’t talked to ya for a while.”  
He hears Ben huff a breath beside him. “Talk? No, we ain’t done that I s’pose.”  
“I, uh… I - ”  
“So, you’ve moved on then?” asks Ben, before Callum can tell him that he’s missed him.  
Callum glances round at him. He’s staring straight ahead and avoiding his gaze. “Me? No. I ain’t the one who’s moved on.”  
“You never waited!” exclaims Ben, darting a scandalised look at him.  
“And you never talked to me!” shoots back Callum. “What was I s’posed to think, Ben? You ain’t said a word to me since new year’s.”  
“I was sortin’ stuff out with Lola,” says Ben in a stern voice. “I had other priorities Callum.”  
“Yeah, I get that,” says Callum, his heart growing icy. “You made that perfectly clear, thanks.”  
“There was no need to jump into bed with the first bloke who looked at ya though, was there?”  
It’s Callum’s turn to feel scandalised. “What? From what I hear that’s exactly what you’ve bin doin’, ain’t it? Different bloke every night?”  
Ben stands up abruptly. “I don’t havta listen to this! What I do in me spare time ain’t none of yer business, Callum.”  
“Right, message received, loud and clear.” Callum shakes his head in disbelief. “So whatever happened to ‘I love ya, Cal’? What was that? Just somethin’ to get me into bed when there weren’t anyone better around?”  
Ben stills. “I did love ya. That weren’t just a line I was spinnin’ ya.”  
“But you don’t no more?”  
Ben peers at him, trying to make out his expression in the near-darkness, and then sits back down beside him. “Would it matter if I did?”  
“Course it would! You never talked to me, Ben. I had no idea what was goin’ on with ya!”  
Ben reaches out a hand and it hovers above Callum’s knee, before he sighs and pulls it back again. “I came to talk to ya. That day you was gettin’ on so well with that bloke from the other team. You looked like you was enjoyin’ yerself, so I left ya to it, and then I missed me chance.” He hugs his arms around his waist. “I mean, let’s face it, why would ya wanna get mixed up in my chaos anyway? I couldn’t really blame ya for movin’ on the first chance ya got.”  
“That’s what this is all about?” asks Callum, incredulous. “Ya think I’ve bin seein’ someone else?”  
“Well ain’t ya?”  
“No, Ben. I don’t want no one else. I thought I had all I needed with you, but you’ve decided ya’d rather play the field now you’ve got yer freedom.”  
Ben shakes his head and mutters something under his breath.   
“What?” asks Callum.  
Ben just shakes his head some more, and so they sit in silence as the canal flows smoothly past them. The door to the venue opens, and they hear a burst of music and laughter. It fades away as quickly as it sounded as the door shuts again.  
“So,” begins Callum tentatively. “These blokes you bin seein’. Anyone serious?”  
“Don’t be stupid,” says Ben.   
They sit in silence again. Callum supposes he should count it as a win that Ben hasn’t just walked away from him. He really wants to reach out and put his arm around the younger man, but he’s radiating anger right now, and Callum isn’t entirely convinced he wouldn’t push him in the canal if he tried anything. He gives him some time. Then he says, “This flat you’ve moved into. It got a big bed?”  
Ben throws him a look of bemusement. “Big enough.”  
“Ya think I could see it some time?”  
“Me flat?”  
“Yer bed,” says Callum. He watches as Ben battles with a smile, before looking away.  
“Me bed’s in me flat. You’d be hard pressed not to see ‘em both at the same time,” he says, directing his comment along the canal away from Callum.  
“We need to talk, Ben,” says Callum, feeling a tiny chink of hope.  
“I thought that was what we were doin’.”  
“No, I mean, communicate. If we’re gonna - ” Callum suddenly realises he’s being a bit presumptuous. He takes a deep breath. “OK, here’s the thing. I love ya, Ben. I never stopped, and now yer a free agent, I wanna make a go of things with ya. If ya… if that’s what ya want too. But we gotta get better at tellin’ each other what’s goin’ on for us. You’ve gotta stop shuttin’ me out.”  
Ben is silent. He’s silent for so long that Callum starts to think he’s made a huge error of judgement. He’s got this all wrong. Ben doesn’t want him anymore, he’s living the life of riley sleeping with any bloke who takes his fancy. Callum opens his mouth to apologise, to make things less awkward between them, ready to walk away, when Ben turns to face him again.  
“Would ya wanna meet my Lexi?” he asks. “Not straight away, but I’d like ya to get to know each other. I’ve got a spare room at the flat an’ she’s gonna be comin’ to stay regular like.”  
Callum smiles at him. “I would love to meet her. Definitely.”  
Ben smiles at that, and reaches out a hand to stroke his cheek. “Have I bin an idiot?”   
“Yep. But then I have bin too. Promise me we’ll communicate proper if we get together?”  
A mischievous look comes over Ben’s face. “ ‘If’ we get together? I thought you was swearin’ yer undyin’ love just a minute ago?”  
Callum smiles. “Shut up, wise arse, and kiss me.”

The evening’s almost over by the time they walk hand-in-hand back into the venue. It’s the slow song section of the evening, and all around the dance floor couples are propping each other up, slowly circling to a romantic number of love lost and found.   
Ben drops his hand as they enter the room, and they stand side by side watching the dance floor. Jay spots them from among the dancers and raises a thumb behind Lola’s back. He whispers something in her ear and she turns to beam at them.  
Callum grabs Ben’s hand again. “Dance with me.”  
Ben huffs a laugh. “What?”  
“Come on. I bin worried I was makin’ things awkward for everyone, bein’ like I am, but I just realised, it don’t matter. If people can’t handle seein’ us together, it’s their problem, ain’t it? Not mine.” He smiles down at Ben. “With you by me side, I can do anythin’.”  
Ben looks unconvinced, but allows Callum to lead him onto the dancefloor, and tucks his head under his chin as Callum holds him tight against his body. Slowly they begin to sway to the music.  
Jack comes past and claps them both on the back. “Thank god! Does this mean there’s gonna be less drama in me team next year?”  
“Can’t promise nothin’ Jack,” says Ben, tightening his arms around Callum’s waist. Jack rolls his eyes and goes to find Denise.  
Callum looks around, and suddenly begins to realise that he might just not be as alone as he’d imagined all this year. He sees Martin grin at him, and Kush throws a thumbs-up, and it begins to hit him. This group of blokes, they’re like a band of brothers, and he finally feels like he might just belong. He’s not alone.   
He pulls Ben closer, a smile playing over his lips.


End file.
